Abigail
by pdljmpr6
Summary: Abby and Gibbs are tighter than blood now, but it wasn't always that way. Sometimes the greatest gifts, come at the greatest cost. Pre-series, friendship, Father/daughter.
1. Sounds Like Silence

**A/N:** So, here is my newest venture. I've been wanting to post it for some time now, but the plot just wasn't coming out right. Well, I finally got hit with a stroke of genius (or maybe just a stroke) yesterday and I'm gonna start posting, come hell or high water. It is a flashback piece but I hope that won't throw you off. Let me know what you think! Comments, suggestions, glowing praise, all welcome.

**A/N**: This fic is sort of along the same lines as my BTL series, only this is an expansion on several lines, a story about back story, if you will. The lines that inspired this fic were: "Please _don't _call me Abigail", "Abby's parents _were _deaf" (italics mine), as well as Abby's general Gothiness since it seems so at odds with her personality, and why Gibbs knows sign language. Enjoy! -pj

**Disclaimer:** Really? Do we have to do this every single time? They're Don B's, not mine. And he's stopped returning my phone calls...

* * *

Gibbs had never been a fan of hospitals. More often than not they were filled with bad luck, bad news, bad choices (and their consequences) and bad smells. And nothing so far in his life had convinced him to believe otherwise.

This was no exception.

It wasn't even his distaste for hospitals that left him feeling so utterly unenthusiastic at the moment. It was the nature of his visit. Taking the statement of the family of someone recently deceased would never be what he considered 'fun'.

He found room 338 and finished his coffee before he glanced at the name on the door, since dispatch had given him no details to speak of, and froze. Immediately his eyes traveled through the open door and landed on the figure on the bed.

She was facing away from him, looking at the television on the far wall, but those pigtails were unmistakable. He watched her quietly for a few moments from the doorway, and as he did so, his mind drifted back to his first interaction with the Abigail Scuito.

It was a Tuesday.

"_I want to thank you for meeting with me Admiral." Gibbs said, sipping a paper cup of coffee. _

_The short, round man beside him nodded, adjusting his cover and taking a sip of his own strong brew. _

"_It's bad enough our boys have to die overseas, they shouldn't have to be looking over their shoulders at home too."_

_Gibbs nodded his agreement and then continued to walk side by side in the warm spring air, squinting against sunlight and watching ducks drive under the clear waters of the Anacostia. _

"_There a reason we couldn't have this meeting in your office?" _

"_Afraid of getting a sun-tan, Gunny?"_

"_No sir, but we usually conduct these interviews in a more…controlled setting."_

_The Admiral nodded in understanding, "Some of what I'm about to tell you is sensitive in nature and I don't need to worry about prying eyes and ears while I'm talking to you."_

"_Grandpa?"_

_The Admiral turned first and Gibbs followed his gaze. He watched with unmasked surprise as a girl of no more than seventeen approached them. She wore jeans and heavy duty black boots, a bright yellow shirt and a red leather jacket, her dark hair braided in pigtails on either side of her head. _

"_They told me I'd find you here," she glared at him and then the coffee in his hand, "and what the hell is this?"_

"_Watch your mouth, Abigail."_

_She rolled her eyes, "this from the man who hangs out with Marines all day," she scoffed and took the coffee from him and brought it to her nose, taking a long whiff, "this is _not _decaf, Grandpa." _

"_You can't-"_

"_Yes I can," she turned and marched purposefully toward a nearby trash can and dropped it in. She was still talking as she came back, "and you know the Doctor said if it goes much higher it could be dangerous. You shouldn't drink that stuff anymore."_

_The Admiral smiled and waved her off, "you worry too much."_

"_Maybe so, but you're going to be alive to hold your great great grand kids if I have anything to say about it, so" she raised a hand to point at him, "be good."_

_The admiral sighed, though he seemed more amused than annoyed, and Gibbs shifted his coffee to his other hand, unsure if the strange girl meant to 'save' him too._

"_Ah, Abigail, this is Special Agent Gibbs of NCIS, Agent Gibbs, this is my granddaughter, Abigail."_

_All of a sudden the stern faced girl was replaced with a sunshine grin that complimented greatly her bright green eyes._

"_Nice to finally meet you, I've seen you around."_

_Gibbs frowned, "you have?"_

_She nodded enthusiastically, "I'm interning in your forensics lab this summer. You probably don't see me, I'm usually cleaning something or getting coffee, but I see you."_

_Gibbs just nodded, wondering how he could have missed her. But then, he wasn't usually in the Forensics lab long enough to see anything but results._

"_Okay, well, I gotta go. Jonathan wants me to run a calibration on the Digital Scanner before lunch," she quickly gave the Admiral a kiss on his cheek and then, after a quick glance in both directions, ran across the street. Once on the other side she mounted a red 600cc motorcycle, picking a helmet up off the seat and on over her head._

"_You know I hate that thing Ab-"the Admiral tried, but his words were cut off as the bike was brought to life and she turned to wave at him brightly, which the Admiral returned half-heartedly and she accelerated out into traffic._

_He was still smiling somewhat when he turned back to Gibbs, who was watching him with a curious expression. The man shrugged in a way that was at odds with his spit-and-polished crisp form of dress and carriage. _

"_Abigail likes to go her own way. I have found, it is usually best to let her."_

"Can I help you, sir?"

Gibbs inhaled somewhat sharply as he was snapped from his reverie and turned to face a young doctor with pretty blonde hair and brown eyes approaching him.

"Do you know Miss. Scuito?"

Ignoring the question and biting back 'no, I just like to hang around outside hospital rooms in the trauma wing', he reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge and ID, quickly flipping it toward the woman.

"Special Agent Gibbs. NCIS. What happened," he asked gruffly, waiting for the seemingly inevitable description of a motorcycle hit and run. All he knew was that there had been an accident and a Marine was dead. He hadn't realized who the sole surviving witness would be.

He heard the woman sigh and the sadness in her tone told him she was new to this, still attached herself to every patient.

"There was a car accident. She suffered a concussion, bruising in her ribs and needed a quite a few stitches on her arm."

"Has anyone called her grandfather?" he asked, still watching the girl in the bed. He felt the doctor's mood dampen even more and looked at her.

"What?" He asked, seeing the way her body language had shifted to uncomfortable.

She looked up, as if gathering her strength, and squared her shoulders. "They were in the car together. The grandfather was driving…he didn't make it."

Gibbs head swiveled back to the bed and it's small occupant.

"Has anyone told her?"

"Yes, but she's in shock. She's been unresponsive to all attempts at interaction."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, noticing for the first time that the TV in her room was in closed captioning. He tilted his head.

"Abigail," he called, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the room.

She didn't respond.

"See?" the doctor said, as if he'd just proved her point.

Gibbs ignored her and reached just inside the door to flick the light switch on and off.

Immediately the girl turned and looked toward the door. She frowned at him.

"You remember me?"

Abigail nodded and the doctor approached, her eyes narrowed, considering.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" She asked, calmly.

Gibbs entered behind the woman and stood at the foot of the bed. He saw that the girl's eyes fell to the doctors' lips every time she spoke. Always responding wordlessly with a nod of her head or shrugging her shoulders.

_You sign?_

For the first time since seeing him in the hospital some of the spark he'd seen when he'd met her return to her eyes.

_Yeah. I didn't know you did._

He titled his head, _can you hear?_

And just as quickly the spark was gone, replaced with carefully kept tears, _there was an explosion._

He dropped his hands and sighed, looking at the nurse, "she can't hear."

The woman gasped and turned to look wide eyed at Abigail and then, met with the girls' blank look, began to scramble for the chart in her arms, "T-there's no mention of her being deaf in her medical records."

"She's not. There was an explosion at the accident."

"Oh my god," she turned to Abigail and then back to him again, "I can't believe no one noticed."

"Me either," Gibbs said impatiently.

"Why doesn't she speak?"

Gibbs shrugged, "ask her. She reads lips."

So, flushing slightly, the woman turned to the girl and asked, though, to Gibbs chagrin, she made a point to speak loudly and slowly, exaggerating each word uselessly. Abigail scrunched her face in a frown and turned to Gibbs for clarification.

"She wants to know why you don't just say something."

_My throat hurts, _she signed, and Gibbs relayed the message.

"There was a car fire, she might be suffering from some smoke inhalation," she turned toward Abigail again, and Gibbs was satisfied to see that this time she spoke more normally, "are you having any trouble breathing?"

Abigail looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head, then followed it with a shrug, _not really. _

She caught a stern look from Gibbs and pursed her lips. _maybe a little. Nothing too serious though, _she conceded.

"Okay," the doctor said, once Gibbs translated, "I'll get you a mask, just to be on the safe side."

She shrugged again and the doctor left, leaving the two alone for the first time, _what are you doing here?_

_A case. You're case._

She gave him a puzzled look.

_Metro called NCIS when they realized it was a Navy Issue vehicle._

She nodded and looked away briefly, _Grandpa's dead. _

He sighed and shifted in his chair. He could tell by the glazed look in her eyes that, even as she signed the words, she was having trouble believing them.

_Can you tell me anything about the accident?_

She immediately shook her head and Gibbs started to clarify, encourage, whatever it would take to get her to answer, but she beat him to it.

_It wasn't an accident._

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, _what do you mean?_

_I grew up around wrecked cars, _she waved away his questioning look, _long story. The point is I know how a car should look before and after an accident. I know how long it takes for the gas tank to light up, just like it did in Grandpa's car, _she paused, coming out of her frenzy slightly as her brow furrowed, _it happened too fast, Agent Gibbs._

_It was a car accident, it always seems to happen fast._

She shook her head again, cutting him off without saying a word, _not seemed too fast, _was _too fast. Gibbs, this was no accident, _her eyes flashed as she signed the last four words, _my grandfather was murdered._

He frowned at this and something in his gut twitched, but he didn't get a chance to open his mouth or lift his hands in response before his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Agent Gibbs."

"Yeah, Gibbs, it's me, Thompson."

"Yeah, I got that Randall."

"Actually, Sir, my name is-"

"Thompson," Gibbs warned. He was not in the mood for one of his subordinates rambling speeches.

"Sorry sir – Gibbs. Um, well, you know that Admiral we found at the burnt out car scene this morning?"

Gibbs glanced quickly at the girl watching him curiously from the bed and, though he knew she couldn't hear what was being said, he stood to look out the window, "yeah."

"Well, sir, um…his house is on fire."

_TBC_


	2. Don't Call me Abigail

**A/N:** Glad to see there's interest in this! I do feel badly about what I did to Abby's grandpa last chap...not that you could tell by the way this chap is shaping up..._bad muse, bad! _ I get seriously depressed when I open my inbox to no reviews, so I'm thinking about posting another multi-chap in addition to this, a Abby/Tony friendship fic that I've been working on for some time. But it's so hard to keep up with multiple fics...hm...but then, that's neither here nor there, is it? I haven't had a chance to respond to reviews yet, but I will. Enjoy!

* * *

_"Hey, sit down," Gibbs ordered, holding the girl down by her shoulders as she struggled against him. _

_She tried, unsuccessfully to push him off and, giving him a wild look tempered with frustration, she raised her hands._

But my mom and dad and brother are in that house!

_He froze, understanding her sudden outburst and urgent need to check herself out. _

_"I'll take care of it."_

But-

_He placed his hands over hers and caught her gaze, stilling her._

_"I will take care of it, Abigail," he said slowly. She flinched when she read her name on his lips and shook her head. _

Don't call me that. Only HE calls me that_. She signed seriously._

_Gibbs frowned, "Then what do you want me to call you?" _

_Raising her right hand, she signed four letters that Gibbs read with ease, and then folded her legs into her chest and rested her chin on her knees._

_Gibbs nodded, "okay, Abby. I'll be back."_

_He turned to leave, but was stopped by the sound of clapping. He looked back and Abby was on her knees again, staring at him earnestly. _

Bring them back to me, Agent Gibbs.

_He was taken aback by the vulnerability in her eyes. The trust. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that._

_For a moment, he hesitated.  
_

_Taking he deep breath, Gibbs nodded microscopically and turned to breeze from the room._

---

Gibbs pulled up to the house and flashed his badge to get past the barricade the MPs had set up to keep the gawking neighbors back. It was an unusual scene, paramedics and MPs were still hanging around casting their blue and red lights on everything and the billowing black smoke that rolled out of the charred remains of a large structure ruined the early morning glow on the horizon.

"What have we got, Chief?" He asked, coming to stand beside a straight-backed Fire Chief dressed in soot-blackened clothing.

"Not sure yet. Received the call about half an hour ago. Could be somebody left a candle burning, the stove on or could be arson."

"Victims?" Gibbs asked, squinting against the sting of smoke in the air as water continued to saturate the building. And his crime scene. "There were three people inside."

"Three?" The chief looked genuinely troubled by this and then shook his head, "my men only found two."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and the Chief continued.

"One male and one female. The woman was taken to the hospital, she was unconscious but alive. The man…we didn't make it to him in time."

"And the boy? There was a twelve year old boy inside with them. Their son," Gibbs turned so he was facing the other man, as if daring him to give him any answer other than 'he's alive'.

The Chief shook his head, white ash falling from his hair as he did so, "no sir. There was nobody else. We searched every room before we had to pull back because the structural integrity was compromised by the fire."

Gibbs turned and felt his stomach sink at the sight of the blackened, burnt out skeleton of the house.

"I sure hope you're right," Gibbs muttered. Not waiting for a reply, he turned to face the crowd and spotted his team being held up at the barricade.

"Gibbs! You see, there's our Boss," the younger of the two men, a dark haired, pale skinned agent, pointed urgently at Gibbs, "see? He gets to cross."

The Marine looked over his shoulder and Gibbs jerked his chin. The man nodded and stepped aside, allowing the eager young agent and his tall, silent companion to pass.

"What do we got, Boss?" The man asked immediately, bouncing on his heels and eyeing the firemen's activity, but Gibbs knew better than to mistake his anxiety for excitement.

"Right now, a compromised crime scene at 6am, Randy," he turned to the other man, who dwarfed both himself and Thompson in comparison. He had dark hair and a square jaw, his mouth twitched at the misuse of his fellow agent's name, but otherwise made no other reaction.

"O'day, you stay here, try and keep them from compromising any _more _of the scene."

The man, a Marine in nearly every sense of the word, gave a short nod and started toward the fire chief.

"Boss?"

Gibbs turned and caught the hardly masked look of confusion on the other agent's face.

"He's a Probie!"

Gibbs barely suppressed a roll of his eyes, "I'd like to see you call him that to his face." He started away and then turned back. Thompson's further protests were cut off by a ring of his cell.

"Honey?" he asked immediately, and waiting with wide eyes for the voice on the other end, "yeah…Okay, how far apart are they?...I'll be there, okay Baby? Just do exactly as we planned…Yeah, Honey, I love you." He hung up and turned to his boss, who was watching with slight interest, slight annoyance, "Gibbs, um, I-"

"Just go, Rick," he said, not needing the man to explain. Thompson had only been married for ten months, and at the moment, he had one very pregnant new wife. The man nodded once and thanked him before practically sprinting back to his car. Gibbs watched until after he'd driven away, and then allowed a small smile. Shaking his head, he turned back toward the house and saw his newest agent standing off to one side, arms folded, back straight, alert and waiting. He was a good man. A capable Marine and an obedient Agent.

Gibbs took a short breath and shifted on his feet, he narrowed his eyes briefly at O'day and, as if sensing his gaze, the man turned to look at him. Gibbs straightened and tilted his head.

O'day could handle the scene.

And besides, Gibbs decided, he needed coffee.

---

Gibbs really did hate hospitals, not that anyone could tell, with as much time as he seemed to be spending there. All Saints' was even in the opposite direction of the scene from the coffee shop, and yet here he was.

Room 338.

He entered quietly, seeing Abby curled on her side and sleeping, an oxygen mask lying discarded beside her limp hand. He noticed all the chairs in the same spots they had been as when he left, realizing no one had been by to see her.

But then, who would know to come? It occurred to him that any friends who might visit would not have been informed of the accident, and any family…and that thought brought him back to his reason for being there.

More bad news.

He sighed and quietly pulled a chair up to sit beside the bed. Warm, bright morning sunlight poured in the window and fell across the thin white blankets, the sun insisting on ushering in a new day regardless of the cost.

And there would be cost.

Gibbs was sure of that.

His eyes fell to Abby's face and something akin to guilt settled in his stomach. She slept peacefully, either from exhaustion or medications he wasn't sure, blissfully unaware of the hell she would awake to. Gibbs sighed again and sipped his drink.

He was certainly in no hurry to inform her.

As the minutes and the silence passed, and he dutifully drained his cup, he found himself wondering why he was there at all. He knew he should be back at the scene so he and his team could start processing it as soon as they were cleared to enter. He should let social services handle Abby. He even raised his hand to the pocket where he kept his cell phone a couple times, but somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

There was something about this girl, this Abigail Scuito, that made him not want to leave her alone. Something pure and innocent about her. Something he wanted to preserve in her, because he failed to do so in someone else.

He was musing silently to himself when the sheets rustled and he looked over to see Abby's wide green eyes boring into him.

Her brow crinkled slightly and she balled one small hand into a fist under her pillow while lifting the other to sign awkwardly near her face.

_Somethings wrong.  
_

It was not a question, and somehow, that made it worse.

_TBC_


	3. Abby's Rule Number One

**A/N:** Wow this plot bunny is evil. It's got fangs and green eyes and really is not too keen on letting me wrangle it. But for you all...I shall prevail. THANKS SO MUCH for the reviews, I replied to most of them, and if I didn't reply to yours, please know that reading it made my day for sure!!! Enjoy!

* * *

Abby sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them tightly. Gibbs watched her from his seat perched on the edge of his chair as she stared off into the nothingness at the foot of her bed.

She was starting to worry him. Since the moment he'd delivered the news about the house and her parents, she'd just been sitting there. Staring. She'd hardly breathed, let alone spoken.

He felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but was still looking around for the first.

"Abby I-" he started, only to be interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He shut his mouth tightly to keep from cursing. He was really starting to hate that thing, "Gibbs."

"They've released the scene, Gibbs."

Gibbs sighed and then nodded, "Ok. Got it. Ducky'll be there soon, get started and I'll be there."

There was a click and Gibbs responded by shutting his own phone, appreciating, as always, his newest agent's appreciation for efficiency.

"I've got to go now, okay?" he said quietly, tilting his head to one side. Abby's only response was to pull her arms and legs tighter to herself and he found himself wishing there was something he could do to comfort her.

He shook his head slightly to rid himself of the thought and stood.

"I'll be back to check on you later," he said before he realized what he was doing. Of course, Abby said nothing, so he started for the door. After assuring himself with the nurses that Abby would not be released until the next day, he reached into his jacket pocket again and dialed a now familiar number.

"She's spoken for, Jethro."

Gibbs almost couldn't help the minuscule smile that graced his lips as he approached his car, "she's all yours, Tobias. I promise you that," he sobered, "I am calling for a favor though." He paused as he reached the door

"What kind of favor?"

"The kind you're good at."

"You need me to kill somebody, Jethro?"

This time he smiled openly, "no. Not today," Gibbs turned back to look up at the hospital. Though it seemed impossible, he thought he saw a shadow fall across one of the windows and he could have sworn it had pigtails, "I need you to put somebody into protective custody for me."

"Why? What happened?"

"First she survived a fatal car accident, then the place where she was staying was burned to the ground."

"Could be a coincidence," Fornell said, already knowing what was to come.

"I don't believe in coincidences."

Gibbs waited while Fornell seemed to ponder the idea on the other end of the line.

"Alright, fine. What's the address? I'll send over some agents."

---

"What do we got?" Gibbs called out, finishing his fourth cup of coffee as he crossed the crime scene tape. O'day looked up at him and approached quickly, a camera dangling from his neck and a sketchpad and pencil in his hand.

"Fire destroyed most of the scene, Boss," he said once he was nearer, then turned to walk with Gibbs as he approached the burnt out skeleton of a house, "the fire chief is going to send down a specialist to check for sure and see if it's arson this afternoon."

Gibbs glanced over, "the best you could do?"

A flash of a grin crossed the man's face, but in an instant it was gone and his striking, chiseled features were set in neutrality again, "at first the guy wasn't going to come until next week," he allowed, not expounding on how exactly he'd convinced the fire chief to change his mind.

Gibbs didn't bother trying to hid his smile. He didn't care about technique, he cared about results. Probie or not, that was what O'day got.

"Good work, Glenn."

The man dipped his chin smartly and the two diverged as O'day went back to taking photos and Gibbs approached the figure dressed in a blue jumpsuit and white fishing hat, crouching in the middle of the rubble.

"Anything Ducky?"

"Jethro," he looked up, as if surprised to see the agent, and then back down at the body, "well, we only just met a few moments ago, but the man has been kindly talkative."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"The body is in remarkable shape for the devastation of the fire," he turned to his left, "it looks as if this wall fell on him and protected him from the flames, taking the brunt of the damage. Unfortunately, it is probably also the reason he was unable to escape the fire with his life."

Gibbs nodded, "so the fire is the likely cause of death, Duck?"

"That would be my preliminary findings, yes."

"Anything else?"

Ducky opened his mouth to speak and then tilted his head to one side. Reached forward, he turned the head, with some difficulty, to one side, "hello, hello what's this?" He pointed a gloved finger at some shiny, melted plastic near the ear. He looked over at his friend, who furrowed his brow as he reached down and scooped the thing into an evidence baggie.

"I'll run it through the lab, but I'd be willing to bet it's a hearing aid."

"Oh dear," Ducky's brow furrowed deeply and he turned back to the body, "the deceased was deaf? That would certainly explain why he didn't hear the smoke alarm and get out of the house."

Gibbs nodded. "He, his wife, and their twelve year old son," he straightened and handed the bag to O'day, who was sketching the body.

"Good lord, there are more bodies?" Ducky stood as well, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the debris surrounding them.

"No Ducky," O'day spoke up, "the wife was taken to the hospital with severe burns and smoke inhalation, but the boy hasn't been found yet," he turned to Gibbs, "the firemen went through this entire place looking for more bodies, and then I did again after it was released to us. That kid's not here."

"Well then find him, O'day." Gibbs snapped suddenly, "he didn't just disappear. What about the neighbors? The trees and bushes? He could be hiding at the park down the street. He didn't just disappear!"

The young agent straightened and nodded curtly, as if unfazed, "I'll find him, Gibbs." He then turned and walked back toward the truck to deposit the camera and start doing exactly that.

Ducky frowned as he watched him go, "was that really necessary Jethro? He's doing his best; you are a man short today, after all."

Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he snapped at Ducky as well, "well I don't know, Duck. Just what do you propose I tell the kid's sister when I get back to the hospital? 'Her father is dead, her _grandfather _is dead, her mother is likely in a coma and, well, we just don't know what the hell happened to her brother but there's nothing to worry about'?"

So much for not snapping.

"There's a girl too?" Ducky responded, ignoring the brunt of Gibbs' outburst.

He sighed and rubbed his face, "yeah. Abby Scuito."

Ducky's eyes widened, "not the forensics intern."

Gibbs was momentarily surprised that Ducky knew her, but then remembered that the kindly ME had a way of drawing people to him without really trying. He just nodded and then watched curiously as Ducky's eyes hardened and he crouched back down by the body, "then time is of the essence then, isn't it Jethro? If this _is _Arson, then the arsonist has no idea what they've just done," he looked up at the field agent with fire in his eyes, "he's just made this personal."

---

Abby bit her lip as she wandered though the ICU, wringing her hands in front of her. She shuffled down the hall in bare feet, the pair of scrubs she'd been given in lieu of a hospital gown were painfully light and thin and would have left her feeling self-conscious, if she'd been able to think at all.

Slipping past the FBI guy Gibbs had sent hadn't been very hard, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was there in the first place.

And now that she'd gotten where she was going, she was trying to remember why she wanted to be there so badly.

She paused about halfway down the hall from her mother's door and stared at it. Just stared. Unable to move, think or breathe.

"Excuse me, Miss. Should you be in bed somewhere?"

She glanced over her shoulder at an older woman with a long white coat and a kind, pink lipt smile.

Abby shrugged and turned back to look at the door. Her throat still hurt to speak, but the woman seemed to understand her anyway and she titled her head, her eyes flooding with sympathy. It wasn't unusual for family members that were patients in other parts of the hospital to come visit patients in the ICU.

"The room has to be kept sterile, but you can go see her if you wear a gown and mask," she glanced back at the door then at Abby again, "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."

Abby didn't say anything, thought not for lack of want. She _wanted _to say plenty of things. Like the fact that her mother was probably unconscious and therefore wouldn't be able to see her. And she was deaf, so she wouldn't hear her either. What was she going to do? _Feel _her presence in the room? Abby was a scientist. She didn't believe in 'feelings'.

But Abby didn't say any of that. Instead she continued to bite her lip and, at the woman's urging, finished her trek down the hall. When she got to the door marked 'Gloria Scuito', she stopped.

Stopped dead in her tracks, right there in the doorway.

At first her eyes bounced around the room aimlessly. It was blindingly white and reeked of disinfectant. White bed sheets, white walls, white floor and bright lights. Clear tubes ran down her throat and her eyes were shut. A thin white sheet covered most of her, but Abby could see the skin on her face and shoulders was peeling and charred.

She supposed she should have been horrified. A part of her thought she should be nauseous at the very sight of her mother that way, and another part thought she should feel like crying. And the rest of her hated herself for not feeling any of those things.

She was numb, and the parts that weren't numb, were angry. Her mother didn't deserve this. She and Abby had never been very close, but no one wanted to see their mother this way, in pain and clinging to life by a thin, invisible thread.

Abby shifted and forced herself to inhale and exhale, and then to blink. She fisted her fingers into her palms.\

_Inhale._

What was she doing there anyway?

_Exhale._

It wasn't as if her mother could see or hear her.

_Inhale_.

And she was wasting time.

_Exhale._

Not knowing what else to do, Abby turned and left.

---

"Yeah, Gibbs," he answered his phone tersely, following the ME van back to the Navy Yard at an agonizing pace.

"Yes, this is Special Agent Dobson. Agent Fornell sent me to All Saints' per your request?"

"Uh-huh," he responded, rolling his eyes when Ducky put on the blinker half a block away from the light.

"Well, sir, there's no cause for alarm but-"

"Well that's good to know. Why shouldn't I be alarmed?" Gibbs eyes narrowed, his attention immediately diverted from Ducky's driving to the uncomfortable sounding man on the phone.

"It's just that she's slipped through our perimeter and-"

"You lost her?" Gibbs practically shouted, pulling a u-turn that made even him wince as he sped back in the opposite direction toward the hospital.

"I don't know if I'd say lost, um, sir," the man cleared his throat and then continued quickly, "I've alerted hospital security and am checking security footage, no one matching her description has entered or exited the building.

"Well that's all great, Dobson, but I'm concerned about who would come in to get her, not the other way around." Gibbs ordered, weaving in and out of traffic, "find her! _Now_."

When he stormed into the hospital ten minutes later, the look on Gibbs' face made the crowds want part before him.

"Dobson," he barked, and a tall, broad-shouldered young man in a blue suit stepped forward immediately.

"We've found her, sir. She's in the ER," his eyes widened when Gibbs' face started to go red, "she's uninjured," he explained quickly, "it seems she was trying to exit through there and was caught by security."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes menacingly, undoubtedly promising to revisit this particular act of incompetency at a later date, and then did an about face, entering the nearest flight of stairs. When he emerged from the stairwell his attention was drawn to commotion at the door, where a security officer had Abby by the arm, trying to prevent her from leaving when that was clearly what she intended to do.

His shrill whistled caught theirs and everyone else' attention.

"Hey!" he stepped between the guard and Abby, wrapping his hand around the man's wrist and squeezing until he released her, "that is _not _how you treat a witness."

The man couldn't respond as he cradled his hand to his chest, and Gibbs paid him no mind, instead turning to face Abby, who was giving him a dark look.

_Where do you think you're going?_

She cocked a challenging eyebrow at him, _does it matter?_

He narrowed his eyes, there was a hostility in her eyes that he didn't remember seeing before. _Not really. Get back upstairs until somebody checks you out._

_Somebody already did, _she replied heatedly, _Me. _

_Not good enough, _he started to reach for her uninjured arm but she stepped back, out of his reach.

_What about my dad and brother. Any word?_

The anger was still there, but the undercurrent of desperation made him ignore it. He licked his lips, _Abby, I have to tell you something important. _

She felt her breath catch. She didn't need to hear it. She already knew. Could tell by the look in his eyes, the sorrow on his face.

She didn't need, or want, the words to confirm it. She closed her eyes before he could get the first sign across and started shaking her head.

Gibbs frowned, "Abby-"

At the sound of his voice she turned on her heel and bolted for the door, out into the sudden summer shower that had blown up over DC.

"Abby stop!" he shouted after her, catching up to her lithe form in the parking lot easily since her injured ribs prevented too much movement. He blinked hard against the rain as it plastered his hair to his forehead.

"You said you would bring them back to me!" screaming was excruciating against the damaged tissue of her throat but she tried anyway, though it came out as a whisper, "you promised."

Gibbs was taken aback, not just by the sound of her voice, but the depth of pain it conveyed. He found himself throwing out the textbook, the 'I was only doing my job's and 'I did my best's being pushed aside as he answered honestly, "Abby, I wanted to. I-"

"But you knew you might not be able to," she countered; she flicked soaked hair off her cheeks and pushed his hands off her shoulders, "you shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"Abby-"

"Don't ever lie to me, Gibbs. Never _ever_. If you can't do it just say so! Just tell me!"

He straightened and stared down at her, giving her the chance to back out of the deal she'd just made. She was shivering, from being wet or upset he wasn't sure, but she stared up at him evenly. Defiantly.

"You're father is gone. And I might not be able to give Bobby back to you, Abbs," he said quietly.

For a moment she was frozen. Breathing hard and squinting at him against the downpour of rain that soaked her clear through to the skin. Finally, she started to nod and her face crumpled with the knowledge that she was finally well and truly alone in the world.

Suddenly the strength left her and she fell to her knees in the parking lot as rivers of rainwater flowed through her fingers. The strength of her sobs surprised her, but not as much as the feeling of strong hands wrapping themselves around her arms and pulling her to her feet. Not as much as the feeling of a warm, dry coat being placed around her shoulders as she was gently but firmly walked across the parking lot and into a blue sedan.

_TBC_


	4. There's Something About Abby

**A/N:** I'm so thrilled by the response to this fic, and I'm really enjoying exploring Abby and Gibbs at this stage of their relationship, uncharted waters. Coooool. Okay so last night I FINALLY got this story completely outlined, so updates should (hopefully) come not only faster, but easier for the rest of the fic. We'll see, eh? lol. Enjoy!! -pj

* * *

Gibbs ran around to the other side of the car and got in. Abby remained motionless and silent, a faraway look in her eyes as she clutched his jacket around her shoulders, so he reached across her to buckle her in before turning on the car and flipping the heater to full blast.

He glanced at her several times but Abby never moved from staring out the window until they were out of the hospital parking lot and five minutes on the road.

Then her body went rigid.

"Stop."

Gibbs frowned and glanced at her.

"Stop the car now!" She repeated, the pain in her throat the least of her worries as she frantically began reaching for the door handle.

"Abby," he started, but pulled over the shoulder of the rain slicked road just as she threw the door open and stuck her head out to wretch on the grass. He unbuckled her so the restraint wasn't pressing into her chest and Abby took the new found freedom and pushed out of the seat, falling to her hands and knees as she emptied her stomach of what little she'd eaten in the last day and a half.

Her hands shook and her vision swam and she felt herself swaying under the weight of the rain and her own soaked clothing. The water still dripping from the sky plastered her hair down over her forehead and cheeks but she didn't have the energy to raise her hands and move it. Which was why she was so surprised when warm, rough hands she didn't know pulled it aside for her and she jumped slightly, not having heard anyone approach. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw Gibbs lips as he spoke quietly to her.

"I've got you."

She turned away again and took several deep breaths and swallowed hard, suddenly feeling too warm. She leaned back against the side of the car, letting the rain soak through her and she closed her eyes.

_'I've got you.' _

It was exactly what she needed to hear. What she wanted to believe. Because she was falling, so very far, and if there was no one at the bottom to catch her then she was sure the impact would kill her.

"We should get you inside," His voice rumbled, low and strong near her ear. It was then she realized the hand still at her back was rubbing in small, soothing circles.

She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to look at him.

"You don't have to be nice to me, you know," she said, knowing it sounded callous and probably ungrateful. But she'd been taking care of herself since she was a child and she saw no need to stop now.

Gibbs tilted his head at her, studying the girl as she stared unwaveringly at him, before something like a smile caught his lips and he shook his head, reaching for her uninjured arm and helping her to her feet. She allowed herself to be pushed into the car once again.

They rode in silence for several blocks, Gibbs staring at the road, Abby staring out the window.

Gibbs had never seen the need to fill silence with sound. He enjoyed silence; it gave him room to think. He liked it even more now that Shannon was not there to fill it with singing and laughter. She was always the noise in his quiet. Diana hadn't been that way. She'd liked the silence too. Maybe that had been the problem.

Abby had never liked silence. Didn't understand it. Didn't enjoy it. In fact, if hard pressed, she might say she feared it. Silence was her parent's world and she liked loud. Loud music. Loud cars. Loud life. Her parents had never known that about her. They couldn't. Maybe that had been their problem…

"How do you know sign?" She turned to look at Gibbs to watch him answer and cringed when she felt the roll of thunder vibrate in the car.

Gibbs glanced at her, _you should try not to talk_.

She knitted her brows and crossed her arms tighter as a chill ran across her skin, "but I like to talk," '_even if it does hurt like hell'_, she thought, "Do you have friends that are deaf? Or parents? Or siblings?" She guessed, pausing after each option and received no response, "c'mon Gibbs, tell me-"

He cut her off with more signs, _why haven't you asked where we're going?_

When she didn't answer immediately, he paused at a stoplight and looked at her. He was surprised by the helplessness masked with anger written on her face. She turned to look at the window again, signing without looking at him, a move her mother would have been horrified by.

_Does it matter?_

Gibbs tilted his head, his stomach flip-flopping inside him. He recognized that look. Had been seeing it in the mirror for eight years.

He tapped her on the shoulder and waited until she turned back. _It should to you. _

A bitter smile crossed her face and she tried to turn away again but Gibbs' gaze held her. _Well it doesn't. _

He paused, searching her pale, young face for a moment, surprised at the truth of his next words. _It does to me. _

She felt her mouth fall slightly open and a shiver of a different kind ran across her skin.

_'_I've got you. To me it does_.'_ She closed her eyes briefly, unable to take the unfiltered honestly in his blue eyes. She believed him and she didn't know why. She didn't want to trust him. She didn't want someone to be nice to her and to make everything easier for her. She wanted to be angry. She didn't deserve nice.

She opened her eyes and saw that the light had turned green, "Well you're the one driving so I guess it should matter to you," she said, and pointed through the windshield, "Anyway, I already know where we're going."

Gibbs raised one eyebrow and she looked at him in time to see him sign, _oh really?_

She nodded, "yeah. And I don't want to go. I can do more to help get justice for my family at work than I can at some stupid safe house."

Gibbs looked at her and she felt some measure of satisfaction to see he was surprised.

"Who said anything about a safe house?"

She rolled her eyes, "You sent an FBI agent to guard my hospital room, not that he was worth anything," Gibbs snorted in agreement but Abby didn't catch it, "I know my grandpa was murdered and I'm willing to be you think the fire was arson," she looked at him again, "where else would I be going?"

Just as she finished speaking Gibbs pulled up in front of a small, non-descript, single story white house with green shutters. Abby frowned and glanced around. Event through the rain soaked windshield she could see all the neighbors houses were the exact same setup. Complete with a single maple in the middle of the yard and perfectly trimmed green bushes by the front door.

She dropped her head back against the seat and sighed.

"I'm in suburbia hell."

Gibbs smiled and jerked his chin toward a white-haired man in a black trench coat and umbrella approaching the car.

"This our package, Jethro?" He said as he opened the door.

Abby's head snapped back to Gibbs, "_Jethro_?"

Gibbs' eyes sparkled slightly but his expression was innocent as he pointed at the FBI agent, "his name's Tobias."

Abby's eyes went wide and she glanced between the two several times, "seriously?" she glanced a few more times while both men kept perfectly stony stares that had left some of the bravest recruits cowering in their boots.

She just shrugged, "fine. If you all insist on calling yourselves that, I want to be Gertrude."

Fornell was the first to crack a smile and he motioned for Abby to get out of the car, "after you, Gertie."

Instead of moving, she looked at Gibbs, "please let me come to NCIS with you Gibbs, I want to help." She pleaded one last time.

Gibbs pursed his lips and gave his head a slight shake, "not even an option."

Her face darkened considerably and she grit her teeth. She didn't respond, but took Fornell's umbrella and stalked toward the house, where she was met by two more black suits.

Fornell flipped up his collar and turned back to his friend in the car, "feisty."

Gibbs gave him a rueful smile, "you have no idea," the other man returned the smile with a shake of his head and started to step away when Gibb's voice rang out, "Oh and Tobias?"

He stuck his head back in the door, "yeah?"

"Try not to lose her this time."

---

When Gibbs arrived back at NCIS, fresh cup of coffee in hand, he was surprised to see Agent Thompson sitting behind his desk, working dutifully at his computer.

He raised a questioning eyebrow and would've sworn he saw the man blush.

"Indigestion," was all he said by way of explanation and Gibbs gave the barest of nods as he crossed the space to his own desk, a knowing smile kicking up the corner of his mouth.

He sat down and, when Thompson didn't move, he tilted his head at the younger agent, "Do you have indigestion too or are you going to update me with what you've found?"

The man looked up, his cheeks, which had just started to return to their normal color, flamed up again as he leapt from his seat and crossed the area to stand in front of his boss.

He cleared his throat and stared at his notepad, "Yeah, sorry Boss. The DCFD called back. They ruled the Scuito Residence Fire as Arson. Looks like the fuse box was intentionally overloaded. Every circuit breaker in the house should have clicked over but they didn't. The wiring showed signs of tampering."

"Any prints" Gibbs looked up, interested.

Thompson shook his head, "nope. But," he placed a diagram of the house on Gibbs' desk, "the fuse box is situated here, on the outlying border of the property. It would have been relatively easy for anyone to tamper with if they knew what they were doing."

Gibbs nodded and grabbed his desk phone, punching in a familiar number.

"Harris."

"What do you got?"

"Yur hunch was correct Ay-gent Gibbs," the voice of the Forensic Tech, Harris, drawled.

"Oh yeah?" Gibbs glanced toward the elevator and watched O'day step off, "and which hunch was that?"

"That the car was sabotaged," the man continued, sounding a little too excited about the prospect, "gas lines had been cut. Weakened a bit with some kind of power tool. Probably a drill."

"_Probably_?"

"Er, uh, definitely. I mean, definitely a drill…of some kind," he continued quickly, a task made difficult by his thick southern accent, "It wouldn't have leaked at awl but once the structure of the ve-hick-al was compromised it broke easily, and then they had one helluva leak."

Gibbs sipped his coffee as he listened, his patience with the other man wearing thin, "so why did they crash?"

"That's the facinatin' part," he paused, as if he expected the other man to share his excitement, and then went on when Gibbs obviously did not, "the break lines were taympered with as well. Just like the gas lines. They were intentionally worn almost all the way through. The admiral only would've gotten a good four or five stops in before they broke."

"Were they sabotaged with the same tool?" Gibbs though to ask before he hung up.

"Yessir. And if you can git me it I think I can git you a positive match."

A click was the only response the other man received and Gibbs looked up to face his agents.

O'day stepped forward immediately, and, out of habit, stood at attention, "the neighbors didn't see anything, Boss. I talked to everyone in a three block radius. They either weren't home, or weren't looking."

Gibbs' face hardened. He didn't buy that for a second, "interview them again."

O'day didn't immediately move so Gibbs stood, bringing himself almost to eye-level with the younger man, "I said 'again', Marine."

"All due respect sir, I interviewed the neighbors thoroughly the _first time_," he said smartly, falling back on years of training out of habit, and dropped the 'Boss' and 'Gibbs' for the more formal title by mere slip of the tongue.

"And what did you ask them about?"

"The night of the fire sir," he said, his voice slightly defensive, "no one saw the boy."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, "Rule number Eight, O'day. Never take anything for granted. People lie and they keep secrets. It is our job to make sure those secrets don't interfere with our murder investigation. Ask about what happened _before _the fire. Yesterday, last week, last month. Any changes in behavior, any signs of an intruder."

"Scuttlebutt, sir." O'day translated an undertone of scorn in his voice.

Gibbs smirked, "well yeah, O'day. Best source of information we got."

At that the man dipped his chin once and went to his desk to gather his bag.

"You go with him, Robert."

Thompson didn't even bother to correct him on the name as he scrambled to pull a paper off the computer and practically shoved it into Gibbs' hands.

"You should see this, Boss."

Gibbs scanned the page, trying to find what his Senior Agent had thought to be so important. Then he saw it.

_List of Dependents – Abigail Scuito, Seventeen_

Gibbs' brows knitted together as he processed this.

"She was living with her grandfather, Gibbs," Thompson sounded more dejected than Gibbs expected and he glanced up, seeing for the first time the way becoming a father was changing him. Changing the way he saw the world.

Gibbs remembered those days.

"She lost her home," O'day too sounded a bit shocked as well, the soldier in him who understood loss a little too well briefly showing on his face. His grip on his backpack had tightened exponentially, "on top of everything else."

Gibbs took a deep breath, put the paper on his desk and picked up his cup of coffee.

"I want a report on what you find out from your interviews when I get back," Gibbs snapped, breezing past both his agents, knowing full well the second round of interviews would take them the rest of the afternoon.

He could almost hear their thoughts of 'bastard' as he passed, but made no apology for his brusqueness. It completed its purpose. It got his team's heads back on straight so they could do their jobs, and kept them from asking where he was going.

He stepped up to the elevator and waited for the doors to open.

"Oh, and O'day?"

"Yes sir?"

"Don't call me 'sir'."

_TBC_


	5. How do you know Sign, Gibbs?

**A/N:** Yay for another chap!! So much for those quicker updates, huh? lol. Well, I had a busy weekend this past one and another coming up, but I _had _to get some reviews in my box which meant I stayed up half the night last night writing this. So, enjoy the fruits of my labor you guys! -pj

* * *

Gibbs pulled out his phone as he left the NCIS Building and tilted his head at the Taxi he saw approaching from the main entrance.

"Fornell."

"I want to talk to Abby."

"Hello to you too Jethro."

Gibbs waited as Fornell told someone with him to go to the 'backroom' and get 'the girl'. He turned his body to stay facing the yellow cab as it pulled up in front of NCIS, but continued to listen intently to the voice on the phone.

"Fornell?"

"Working on it Gibbs," a short pause and then, "oh for the love of…" there was the ruffle of clothing and a muttered curse and Tobias' voice came back over the line, only now with resignation and the slightest hint of regret.

"We've got a problem, Gibbs."

He sighed, "No Fornell, _you've _got a problem. Maybe you should send your boys to NCIS for the Protection Detail training." The jibe was more friendly than Fornell was expecting, but he didn't get a chance to question it as, almost immediatly, a dial tone sounded in his ear.

Gibbs flipped his phone shut and approached the figure in pigtails who'd exited the taxi a moment ago.

"Hope you enjoyed it, because that's the last ride you'll be taking for quite some time."

Abby froze and then slowly turned to face him.

"Umm…Gibbs," she glanced nervously as the cab, who was satisfied with having received his fare and starting to drive away, "fancy meeting you here."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her, "there a part of 'no' you find difficult to understand?"

"Only when it involves finding the guy that killed my grandfather, sir."

Gibbs tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her quick response.

She seemed to understand his suspicion and continued urgently, taking a small step toward him, "what if it were your family, Gibbs? What if it were you who'd lost everything and everyone you loved? Would you really just sit on the sidelines, letting someone else do all the work? Or would you want to be involved, hell, demand to be, so you could be sure that they got the right guy and that he got what was coming to him?" There was a fire in her eyes that he recognized, had seen before on that street corner when he first met her. It suited her, "well?"

He stared at her for several more moments, not moving. Abby returned his unblinking stare just as evenly, though hers was punctuated by tears that gathered behind her eyes and she fought hard to keep at bay. Finally, he let out a breath and relaxed his shoulders, and Abby correctly assumed he'd made a decision.

"And if I try to send you back-"

"I'll just slip out again," she finished for him, "and I'll come back to the Navy Yard, and the next time you won't catch me when I sneak back in," she stated confidently, so much so that Gibbs was forced to smile.

She had a point. She'd gotten past FBI detail twice already, proving something he'd always suspected, that the FBI really was as useless as they seemed. Still, he didn't want her to think she'd won _that _easily. "All right, at least if you're here I can keep an eye on you," he glanced at his watch to avoid the look of pure elation on her face and wasn't expecting the impact when she slammed into him with a bone-crushing hug. He remined silent for a moment, a bit startled, and then continued as if she weren't clinging to him and cutting off his air supply, still standing stiff in her arms, "we'll stay until 18:30, then I'm taking you to get some rest."

She pulled back and gave him a horrified look, "but that's only three more hours," then paused at the stern look on his face and continued sheepishly, "I mean, thanks so much Gibbs. Sounds great."

Again, a half smile, reminiscent to the one he'd seen on the Admirals' face that day, claimed Gibbs' lips and he turned back toward the building with a hand at Abby's back.

"That's better."

---

"Hey Jon I got...oh, Gibbs you're here, uh, well good," Thompson came barreling out of the elevator a few minutes after Gibbs and Abby entered the lab. Abby had gone to the back of the lab to log the evidence from an unrelated case while Gibbs had a word with Jonathan, but both turned at the sound of the man's voice.

"Thompson," the one word held all the warning and threat Gibbs' meant it to as he turned to face him fully, upon finding O'day with him, he clenched his teeth. He knew full well they hadn't completed all their follow-up interviews that quickly.

Reading the impatience on his boss' face, Thompson got straight to the point, "we went back to the scene like you said, but before we got back to doing interviews we decided to do another walk-through to be sure we'd learned all we could from the physical evidence," he turned to look at O'day, who pulled a small evidence baggie out of his backpack, "we found this while checking the fuse box again."

O'day stood straight and held out his hand and both Gibbs and Harris reached for it, though the latter had the presence of mind to be content with looking and not touching.

The baggie held an extremely small chip of something that was a sort of florescent bluish green.

"What is it?" Harris said, with that star-struck, almost salivating quality to his voice that he always got when he was handed new evidence.

"Well, that's kind of what we want you to find out, Cowboy," Thompson said, slightly amused at how excited the man seemed to be about this new piece to their puzzle, "All I know is that it didn't belong in that box."

"Could be from the person who set the fire," Gibbs nodded, and finally handed the bag to the eager forensic tech, "good work guys, not get back there and do your interviews."

They both nodded, and Thompson started back toward the elevator, but O'day didn't move.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, "something else?"

The younger man glanced past him through the huge glass windows at Abby, who was bent over an evidence box full of baggies, with music on that vibrated through the walls, though they couldn't hear it through the closed doors.

"How is she, Gibbs?"

He took a deep breath but didn't respond, mostly because he didn't know the answer. Thankfully, he wasn't forced to, as Thompson called him from the doorway. With a jerk of his head, Gibbs ordered the young agent to follow the lead of his senior one. He heard Thompson mutter, 'don't worry Probie, the Boss had got it covered' before the elevator doors closed and he turned to face Abby himself. He clenched his fists at his sides as her words from earlier came flooding back to him.

_What if it were your family, Gibbs? _

_What would you do?_

He forced another deep breath into his lungs. He didn't mind the questions. It was the fact that he was already all too aware of the answers that bothered him.

"Ay-gent Gibbs?"

He turned to see Harris moving toward him, his hard-soled cowboy boots clicking across the tile floor, a seriousness in his blue eyes that Gibbs was not accustomed to.

"She's one of mine, Gibbs. I'll take care of her."

Gibbs said nothing and turned to leave, quelling the desire to correct the well meaning scientist.

Abby wasn't one of 'his' to take care of.

And Gibbs was sure he could handle that part as well.

His eyes were glued to Abby's back as he waited for the elevator doors to close and he let out a long, slow breath when he was finally alone in the confines of his 'office'.

_What if it were your family, Gibbs?_

---

Three hours later on the dot Gibbs strolled back into the lab. Usually he preferred to stay later and work when there were fewer people around to bother him, but today he wasn't just worried about himself.

He paused first outside the doors at the indecipherable noise that seemed to be emanating from the speakers in the corner, and then at the sight of the bluish chip brought in earlier being displayed on the big screen.

Abby stood in front of it, arms crossed, and amazingly, unmoving.

"Abbs? Where's-"

She didn't move, "I know this."

Tilting his head, he stepped forward.

"I know what this is. I mean...I know, but I don't know," she turned to look at him, "you know? I recognize it. I feel like I know what it is, but I can't name it," she bit her lip and turned back, "it's important, Gibbs. I can feel it," she touched her stomach and frowned harder, "this evidence is key. But I just can't…I can't…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

Gibbs' pursed his lips; the signs of exhaustion on her face and the shaking in her voice had not escaped him. He reached forward to touch her arm, "c'mon, time to go."

To his surprise, Abby didn't argue, she allowed herself to be guided to the elevator but she still wore the same thoughtful, distressed look on her face.

"I know it, Gibbs."

He squeezed her shoulder in response, and for the moment, it was enough.

Gibbs was expecting Abby to fall asleep in the car; she'd dropped into the passenger seat as if she had not an ounce of energy left to her name. She didn't, though she didn't move or speak either. She glanced around a bit when he pulled up in front of his house, a modest two story with hanging plants and a porch swing out front, but she said nothing.

Inside, Gibbs left her standing in the living room while he went to find a pillow and blanket for her. He passed the empty bedroom on the left, knowing he should allow Abby use of that room, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He and his first wife had lived in this house, along with their daughter, Kelly. After they'd died he'd remarried and lived, first in Tucson, then in Moscow. None of his 'new' wives had ever lived with him in this house.

This house was still his and Shannon's.

And that room was still Kelly's.

"Here," Gibbs set the pillow and blanket at the end of the couch, "bathroom's on the right. Breakfast is at six."

Abby only nodded, her right hand wrapped around the oppposite elbow and she stared at her feet while he spoke. Gibbs watched her for a few moments, but, not knowing what to say that might make her feel better, knowing there really wasn't anything that could be said, he started to leave. He remained silent as he moved to lock the front door and turn off all but one of the lamps.

"Wanna know the worst part?"

Her voice was almost too soft to carry, but Gibbs' sharp ears picked it up. He turned back, and saw Abby sitting stiffly in the middle of the couch, staring blankly out ahead.

"I miss my grandfather the most," she glanced at him, but couldn't see his expression in the dim light, so continued talking if only to fill the silence, "been living with him for almost four years. My parents sent me to stay with him for the summer when I was thirteen. Said I needed an 'attitude adjustment'," she raised and lowered one shoulder, "mostly I was just tired of being used. I didn't want to miss school so I could translate a doctor's appointment, or miss my favorite TV show because they needed to make a phone call to someone who didn't have a teletypewriter. I was tired of feeling guilty for being the only one who could enjoy the music that I played," she took a deep breath and Gibbs got the distinct feeling she'd never said any of that before, "probably sounds pretty horrible, doesn't it?"

Gibbs frowned and, after hesitating a moment, came to sit beside her, in the small circle of warm yellow light.

"My mother was deaf," he said just as quietly as she had been. Though he felt her eyes on him, he didn't look over, "she died when I was young."

Abby didn't know what to make of this confession. Didn't know what to make of her own. So, functioning on instinct, she kicked off her shoes, pulled her feet up onto the couch beside her and wrapped her arms around Gibbs' middled, resting her head on his shoulder.

After a moment, he relaxed into her embrace, and that is how they slept through the night.

_TBC_


	6. Lots of Black, Abbs

**A/N**: I'm sorry sorry sorry for the delay in getting this chap up. I was suffering major writers block for this fic (could have something to do with reading Star Trek 2009 fic until I was blue in the face...), but I finally broke through with the help of a song. Some fics, not all, but my favorites for sure, all end up having a theme song and I usually don't discover it until I'm halfway through. That is this song, _Closer to Love_ by Mat Kearney. Enjoy! -pj

_She got the call today  
One out of the gray  
And when the smoke cleared  
It took her breath away_

_She said she didn't believe  
It could happen to me  
I guess we're all one phone call from our knees_

_I'm gonna get there soon  
She's gonna be there too  
Cryin' in her room  
Prayin' oh, Lord come through_

_And don't apologize  
__For all the tears you've cried  
__You've been way to strong now  
For all your life_

_Select Verses, Closer to Love by Mat Kearney_

Consciousness returned to Abby suddenly, as it often did, and a frown was set firmly on her features as she tried to catalogue her surroundings and figure out where she was, her eyes never opening.

Her limbs were tangled in a flannel blanket that had probably at some point been tucked around her with care, but her boy(toy)s didn't usually do that sort of thing and this couch didn't smell like Grandpa's.

Anyway, she only slept on the couch when her parents were visiting and, while that seemed familiar, her mother never drank coffee, which meant no one did, but there was a distinct caffeinated aroma in the air that entered her sensitive nose.

Abby finally opened her eyes and glanced around, and it was only then that she realized where she was. The memories slammed into her with such force that she physically jerked and sat straight up, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Oh God," she muttered, her face falling into her hands. _It's real, isn't it? All of it. They're really…_

No. She didn't want to think about that right now. She couldn't. Even after several almost-restful hours of sleep her energy level seemed non-existent and the thought of dealing with emotions like 'grief' and 'loss' sounded entirely too exhausting for 6am.

Not only that, she had a job to do. Bobby was missing and her father and grandfather had been murdered. She had to figure out who was responsible and she couldn't do that from a while in an incoherent heap on the floor.

She could break down later. Right now, she had a murderer to catch and a little brother to find.

With a nod to herself that was much surer than she felt, she stood and made her way into the kitchen and found Gibbs was already dressed and settled at the table with a plate of eggs, a mug of coffee and a newspaper.

His eyes lifted to hers over the top of the paper and she tugged self consciously at her faded green shirt, now into its third day of wearing, and attempted a smile.

"Hi."

He didn't respond to the greeting, instead folded the paper and laid it beside his plate. Abby was no longer looking at him, instead eyeing the pot of coffee on the counter. He took advantage of her momentary distraction to study her freely. She was disheveled in the normal morning way, pillow creases in her rosy cheeks and her hair flopping in odd directions, but that wasn't really what he noticed.

It was more the tense way she held her back even as her shoulders were bowed under invisible weight. The way her green eyes were cloudy and far-away looking and how she seemed to look _through _the coffee pot, instead of at it.

"Mugs are over the microwave," he said, his voice startlingly loud in the silence of the small kitchen. Abby jumped slightly, as if she'd forgotten he was there, and then nodded, shuffling across the room in bare feet, she quickly poured herself a cup of coffee.

He raised an eyebrow of interest when she didn't immediately balk at the strong liquid.

And raised the other when she smiled instead. She looked at him, a sparkle of glee that suited her shone in her eye,

"Mmm," she folded her hands around the mug, "Marine coffee."

Her smile was soft and almost sad, and a wry smile took Gibbs lips and he looked away briefly in understanding. They remained in amiable silence for several moments while Gibbs read and ate and Abby stared into her coffee.

"Gibbs?"

"Mm?" He responded, not looking up from the page.

"I um…I was wondering," she shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in her own skin, "that is, I thought maybe…I mean it's not a big deal or anything I just…um…"

Gibbs looked up, finally noting her discomfort and the anxious uncertainty in her voice. This wasn't the strong, confident Abby he knew her to be. This was a scared kid wondering how far they were allowed to push.

"Spit it out, Abbs."

The term of endearment slipped out, but it seemed to put the girl at ease and she raised her face to look at him.

"I was just wondering if it would be okay if we went to the store before heading in," she said finally.

"The store? Why?" Gibbs asked, a little impatient. He wanted to get back to the case. There were two people dead, one in critical condition, another missing and they were no closer to finding out who had done it. He wouldn't have usually even come home during a case this important, but Abby had…Abby.

Upon hearing his swift dismissal of her request, she shook her head immediately, muttering 'never mind, sorry' and turned to face the sink and looked out at the backyard through the window.

_Abby_.

He closed his eyes, giving himself a mental head slap. How could he have been so stupid?

_The fire_.

Abby had lived in the Admiral's house. The same house that had burned down two days ago with everything she owned inside.

He opened his eyes to look at her and noticed for the first time that her jeans and green t-shirt were wrinkled and a bit dingy looking.

Gibbs took a deep breath, pushing the self contempt to one side and allowing himself to focus instead on what needed to be done.

"Bathrooms' second door on the right. There's a towel in there and I'll try and find a set of clothes that might fit you," he stood and took his plate to the sink to stand beside her, "when you're ready we'll go to the store before going to the office."

Abby paused in her sipping and looked at him, "Gibbs I…"

Gibbs shook his head, "how long did you say you've been working at NCIS?"

She looked confused at the abrupt change in topic, but answered obediently, "almost two months."

He nodded, "then you should know two things, my people come first," he dipped his chin slightly, "and you should never apologize it's-"

"It's a sign of weakness," a wisp of a smile crossed her face and she placed the coffee cup on the counter, "I know. I've heard you say so to Thompson."

She looked back up at him with eyes that shone a bit too brightly, and, unable to trust her voice, she signed, _thanks Gibbs_.

A smile kicked up one corner of his mouth.

_No need. Now go. _

She needed no further prompting.

Shopping proved to be largely uneventful. Gibbs drove to the nearest department store and gave Abby the rather non-restrictive guideline of 'get what you need' and Abby suggested he wait near the door.

Gibbs protested vehemently, mostly with dark looks and piercing glares, because she was still in protective custody. Namely, his. But she explained, with very little discomfort, that she didn't need him hovering over her shoulder while she decided whether or not she wanted 'maxi with wings' and if degree 'really goes on clear'.

But the argument that finally convinced him to stay was that he would have better cell reception for getting updates on the case and she agreed to be done in twenty minutes, knowing that at if she was even a minute late she would have agent accompaniment 'to walk down the hall, make photo copies and use the head' until this was all over. She believed him.

When she waved him over to the register exactly seventeen minutes later, she was almost half way through being checked out and Gibbs eyed the clothes she'd picked out as they were folded and neatly placed into bags.

"That's a lot of black," he'd observed, no judgment in his voice.

Abby had shrugged and refused to meet his eyes, "I've got a lot to mourn."

And that was all that was said on the subject.

At NCIS Gibbs was disappointed to find no new leads. The boy, Bobby was his name, Gibbs reminded himself, had not turned up anywhere, though his picture was up in every police station, post office and grocery store they could get to. In the lab it wasn't much better, as the previous day's evidence (or lack thereof) had yet to yield anything new and the Mass Spec was not done analyzing the strange iridescent chip that the younger agents had brought back the day before.

"Hey, um, Boss?" O'day interrupted the silence a few hours into the morning while on hold with a neighbor of the Admiral's who would undoubtedly turn out to be another dead end.

Gibbs looked up from the file in front of him, intrigued by the unusual hesitancy in the man's voice.

"What's going on with Abby? I heard the FBI couldn't keep tabs on her and-"

Gibbs could see Thompson's head raise out of the corner of his eye, clearly interested in what Gibbs response would be.

His face remained neutral. "She's back in NCIS custody."

"You think the person who did this to her family might still come after her?" Thompson chimed in, a hint of trepidation in his voice. None of them liked the idea of one of their own having a hit on their head.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Gibbs said coolly, and turned back to the file on his desk.

Thompson and O'Day exchanged a glance and returned their attention to their respective tasks. Gibbs worked vigilantly for several more minutes before the worry radiating off the other men started to get to him.

"I'm going for coffee," he announced, standing from his chair. He started toward the elevator but a feeling resembling guilt niggled at the back of his mind and he turned around.

"Hey," he waited until both men were looking at him, "she's going to be fine." He made sure he dropped his usual edge and allowed some of his sincerity to seep into his voice. He needed them to focus on their jobs and knowing Abby was safe would help them do that.

And he hadn't lied to them yet.

---

"Is the Mass Spec done yet?"

Jonathan sighed, pulled himself out of his microscope and turned around to look at Abby, who was chewing one black fingernail and staring at the large white machine on the other side of the room.

"Naw, Abby," he drawled, "not yet, just like it wasn't five minutes ago, just like it wasn't five minutes befo'e that. You know it makes a sound when it's done, downtcha?"

She gave him a look that was a cross between exasperated and worried, "yeah but sometimes the dinger breaks. You know it has a faulty dinger."

Jonathan tipped his head to one side and stood from his stool, tucking his thumbs into the thick brown belt with the audacious gold buckle on his boot-cut jeans. "How're those calculations comin'?" he asked gently.

Abby's cheeks tinged pink a bit and she glanced down at the table in front of her, covered in six or seven sheets of paper with notes and scientific equations scribbled all over.

"Um," she began and then looked up apologetically, "sorry I've been um, having trouble focusing."

"Not surprised," he said, giving her a sympathetic smile, "shoot, darlin', if I'd been through everything you have in the last few days I'd have trouble rememberin' m'own name, let alone how to do complex chemical equations."

Abby sighed; relieved he wasn't upset with her. She would ordinarily have been done with this kind of busy work in a few minutes. but today she'd been working on them for nearly an hour.

"Sometimes I do," she said, laughing a little and Jonathan nodded.

He didn't approve of her being at the office in the first place. Where he came from, a person didn't mourn a loss at work. They went home and cried and drank and talked about the good 'ol days with people who loved them.

Surrounded by death and violence in a forensics lab was the last place some poor kid with no parents to speak of needed to be.

"Abby, listen, you should head home. No one would thank any less of you's if you did."

She immediately started shaking her head, which she pulled into pigtails to keep out of her face, "no. I told you Jonathan, I want to be here. I need to work. I _can _work, if I can just get my brain to focus long enough to finish something," irritation seeped into her voice and she glared down at the papers in front of her.

"Coffee helps with that."

They both looked up at the door and saw Gibbs striding toward them, a paper cup of coffee in each hand.

The first real grin to grace her lips in nearly three days flashed across Abby's face and she gratefully took the cup of coffee from him.

"Hey Gibbs," she sipped the hot liquid and then reflexively wrinkled her nose.

"Something wrong?" Gibbs asked, looking down at his own cup.

"Oh, no," she said quickly, looking embarrassed for the second time in as many minutes, "I just don't usually drink hot stuff this late in the day, _but_," she stood up to pull the cup out of his reach when he tried to retrieve it, "that doesn't mean I won't."

Gibbs just tipped is head in a way that seemed to say 'you bet you will' and watched as she scampered across the room to her desk where her computer was making noise.

"So how is she? Really." Gibbs muttered when she was out of earshot.

Jonathan put his hands on his hips, pushing his white lab jacket back and sighed.

"She's still Abby, but she's distracted. Obsessing about her families' case. I just…I don't think she should be here Gibbs," he glanced at the stoic Agent beside him, "it's not good for her."

Gibbs was quiet for a few moments. Abby, not realizing she was being watched, dropped her chin into her hand as she checked her inbox and read a few emails. She looked tired, despite the rest she'd gotten the night before and he got the feeling that at any given moment she would laugh out loud or cry hysterically. The green in her eyes was clouded with darkness he recognized. Sometimes it clouded his own. He didn't want that for Abby. He wasn't sure what it was or how she'd done it, but he could feel her getting under his skin, warming a part of him he'd thought long dead and buried and had been content to leave that way.

He wanted to protect her from the pain that sometimes kept him awake at night, but knew there was nothing he could do. And the knowledge of that fact made anger and guilt flare inside him hotter than he'd expected and stronger than he intended.

He took a deep breath and forced his jaw muscles to relax.

"She just lost her entire family in a matter of hours, ­­­­Harris," Gibbs said, his voice deathly quiet with a weight Jonathan didn't quite understand, "anything that allows her to function right now is 'good for her'."

_TBC_


	7. It Don't Matter to the Sun

A/N: This chapter starts with a flashback, I wanted to bring Abby's family back into the story a bit. Thanks again to all the awesome reviews and to everyone who is being patient while I stumble my way through this fic. I hope you continue to enjoy! -pj

_Abby's dark hair flew from one side of her pillow to the other. There was no telling what dark images were playing in her head, and no one was going to ask. Not that no one cared, her mother cared. That was why Abby was always in trouble for running off in the junk yard they frequented. While Gloria liked to look for pieces to weld into her art, Abby could always be found crawling around inside some horrendous burnt out car wreck babbling to herself about how it must have happened. Let it never be said that someone who doesn't speak can't shout. Abby would beg to differ. _

_It wasn't that no one cared the small girl was in the throws of a nightmare, it was just that no one knew she was in distress in the first place._

_Finally the small girl sat straight up in bed, her pale hands flying to Fuzzy Bunny and hugging the worn out stuffed animal to her chest. _

_"Mommy?" She called out, too young and disoriented to realize it was pointless. The wind and rain blew against the tree outside and a branch banged up against the window, startling her. _

_"Daddy!" she shouted, her voice quivering with fatigue and alarm. Still, no one stirred and Abby, being the type of child who took things into her own hands, stood. Her Princess night shirt fell to her knees as moved to the foot of the bed. Clutching Fuzzy Bunny tightly, she crouched low and then catapulted herself off the edge, being sure to put lots of space between the foot board and her landing to avoid being caught by anything nefarious that might be lurking underneath the bed. _

_"Mommy?" she said again, pushing the door to her parents' room open. Both her mother and father were asleep, still and peaceful, completely unaware of their frightened daughter standing a few feet away. _

_Abby bit her lip, gripping the cool doorknob with one small hand and Fuzzy Bunny hanging from the other. She really wanted one of her mom's nice, tight hugs right now. Or one of her Daddy's forehead kisses. That would make everything alright. _

_But they were sleeping. And she knew how much she hated it when her mommy made her get up early in the morning. Maybe she shouldn't disturb them. _

_The thunder cracked again outside, along with a bright flash of lightning and Abby jumped with a startled squeak._

_Her decision made, she turned and ran back to her room, her small bare feet slapping the wood floors all the way down the hall. But she paused again in her own doorway. She didn't really want to get back into her bed own bed either. She'd been sleeping in her 'big-girl' bed for quite some time now, but she wasn't quite sold on the idea yet. _

_The other bed, the one with the sides that folded up to keep her in at night, that one was much better. It felt cozier…safer. Not like this bed. There was nothing on the sides. Anyone (or anything) could just climb on up and get her whenever they wanted! _

_Abby was back to biting her lip, trying to decide what to do even as the rain intensified outside. She spotted Blankie laying haphazardly on the corner of the bed and in that same moment, a better idea of where to sleep popped into her head. Abby quickly dashed into the room to grab Blankie and then scampered right back out again, the monsters never knew what hit 'em. _

_The house was dark but she'd lived there her whole entire life, so she found her way to the bathroom very easily and, after a moment's hesitation, moved across the room and peered into the big claw foot bathtub. _

_It was nice and dry, with high sides all around to keep everything out. She reached down by her feet and picked up Fuzzy Bunny and Blankie and dropped them in, before hoisting her one leg up over the side and tumbling in after them. _

_She shoved Bunny up by the foot of the tub because she didn't want to get dripped on and covered up with Blankie. She would be safe there from, monsters she knew and thought, somewhat hopefully, that the high porcelian sides would protect her from anything else that might come along..._

Abby stared up at the ceiling in the dark, having been awakened by a nightmare for the third time that night. She was so tired of having nightmares.

They were all the same. Well, they were all different but…they were all the same. Sometimes she was reliving the car accident with her grandfather. Sometimes she was home on base, surrounded by scorching hot fire on all sides, crying out for her father and mother, knowing they wouldn't hear her. Sometimes she was even in the house she grew up in with the howling of a hurricane knocking at her door.

It didn't matter the circumstance, the outcome was always the same. She was always too late. She always lost them, all over again.

She turned onto her side in the tub and curled up tighter. She was glad it had big, tall sides like the one she'd had as a kid. It made her feel safe.

She opened one eye when she thought she heard a voice and then opened both when she realized she recognized it.

_Gibbs. _

It seemed that she wasn't the only one dealing with nightmares tonight. Abby closed her eyes again, but the images that started to play took 'getting back to sleep' right off the agenda. She stayed still and quiet, unable to move. Like watching a train wreck, listening to Gibbs battle his demons was almost hypnotic for a moment. But then the anguish in his voice, the quiet desperation she recognized was suddenly too much and she quickly sat up, climbing out of the tub and beelineing for the door. Biting her lip, she tugged at the new sleep shirt and shorst she'd bought and balled her hands into nervous fists as she quietly stepped out into the hallway.

She wandered the kitchen in semi-darkness for a moment, going through drawers and cabinets to keep herself busy, wishing she knew how to use his coffee-maker. She could really use some coffee right about now. She opened one drawer, the second one down to the right of the sink, and found what appeared to be Gibbs' junk drawer. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted a box about the size of a deck of cards near the back.

"That'll work." She muttered to herself, snatching another small box from the contents of the drawer and slipping out the back door to the patio.

---

Gibbs' entire body was tense, his brow furrowed with more emotion than he would have ever shown in a conscious state. His mind whirled with missed opportunities and broken promises as Kelly's face glowed bright and smiling in front of him, only to dissolve and burn away when he reached out for her.

His eyes snapped open and the image vanished as he gasped for breath and sat up, swinging his legs to one side and bowing his head into his hands. His chest ached with an intensity he hadn't felt in months.

It had been eight years. But, sometimes, it felt closer than yesterday.

Losing Shannon had hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced, but the pain had dulled over time, lessened with each new 'love', failed and forgotten though they were.

But Kelly…

God _Kelly_.

Losing her had nearly broken him. The void she had left in his soul was so deep and dark and cold the only way he knew how to function around it was to push all those memories, and the feelings and actions that went with them, into that same void and lock it all away.

He wasn't used to letting those feelingspit. To caring for someone, watching over them, the way he had with Kelly.

And now that he had, essentially unlocking the door to the void, it wasn't surprising that the memoires had spilled out along with it.

Something made a noise in the kitchen and he lifted his face, focusing his ears on finding the source even as he reached for the gun kept in his nightstand. He stood, his nighttime battles temporarily forgotten, and cautiously approached the door to his bedroom.

He peeked out into the living room and saw Abby wasn't on the couch, but forced himself not to panic. A quick glance assured him the front door had not been unlocked, and the temperature was the same so none of the windows had been broken or jimmied open. He continued on into the kitchen and noticed some of the things on the counters had been moved, but nothing was missing.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he saw a pigtailed silhouette out on the back patio.

Abby immediately looked up when she heard the door slide open behind her.

"Hey Gibbs," she said, her voice rough and quiet, "didn't wake you, did I?"

Gibbs didn't know quite how to answer that question, and he was distracted by the glowing object between her fingers anyway.

"What is that?"

Abby glanced down at the cigarette and then back at Gibbs.

"What is _that_?" she gave his .45 a pointed look, "you keep that under your pillow don't you?"

Gibbs approached her and snatched the small stick from her hand. "These things will kill you," he said, almost growling.

Abby frowned, not quite understanding his anger. "Yeah, so will those," she pointed at his gun and shrugged, "anyway I don't see your problem. I got them out of _your _kitchen."

Gibbs didn't respond, but then, she hadn't really asked a question. Abby returned to staring out at the darkness, expecting Gibbs to go back inside and return to bed. Instead, he came and sat down next to her, resting his weapon beside him.

"You shouldn't have come outside without me," he chastised, more gently than he would have anyone else, he realized. "You're still in protective custody."

Abby shook her head and looked away.

"What?" Gibbs said, knowing she had something to say.

She didn't move immediatly, but did finally turn and look at him. He was instantly alert upon seeing the troubled look on her face.

"You're protecting me. Hospital security is protecting Gloria…who's protecting Bobby, Gibbs? He wasn't in the fire, no one has seen or heard from him anywhere," she shook her head and wiped at her eyes, "what if the people that did this already have him? What if-"

"Then we'll get him back."

She continued biting her lip, shaking her head as if she wasn't hearing him.

"But _Gibbs_-"

"Abby," he cut her off and reached out to turn her face toward him, "_I'll _get him back."

He let go of her chin but she continued to stare at him, wide green eyes that almost touched his soul with their intensity. She released her lip.

"I believe you Gibbs."

He nodded and, after a moment, she broke eye contact, turning back to face the ground in front of them.

The silence stretched out for several moments, but neither seemed to care. Stars dazzled overhead and the full moon shone down on a chourus full of nighttime creatures, but the two figures sitting on Gibbs back porch remained motionless.

"What's with your house?" Abby said after a while, staring down at her bare feet, brushing against tips of grass as she swung them back and forth.

He raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her, asking for clarification.

"The flower boxes. The porch swing. The garden. It just seems…," she hesitated, "you live here alone."

"Is there a question in there anywhere?"

She nodded, following his gaze out into the nothingness beyond the small ring of illumination cast by the porch light.

"See, all this time, I've been trying to figure you out. You project this rough and tough, no-nonsense marine exterior. A solitary existence," she smiled but her voice quivered, betraying the depth of emotion she was trying to control, "but sometimes, the way you look at me...it reminds me of the way my father's signs look," she closed her eyes briefly, "_used_ to look, to me. Does that make sense?" She noted Gibbs' back straightening and growing tense beside her and tried to force the rest of the words out in a rush. "And your house. You live here alone but everything about it screams 'family'."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "what are you saying?"

Abby bit her lip, looking at him, debating the best way to go on, "sometimes, when I get scared, or feel lonely I like to…see growing up my parents couldn't hear me when I cried or – or when I screamed. I would get up and go to their room but…they were sleeping. I- I didn't want to wake 'em. So I would get a blanket and pillow and go to the bathroom and sleep in the tub because it was the only place that felt safe. And, I don't know, I guess I still do that sometimes," she shrugged, rubbing her left hand along her right arm as the words tumbled forth, "And I guess I've been feeling scared and," she swiped at her face, using the opportunity to look away from his steady blue gaze, "you know, alone, a lot lately and um, your bathroom shares a vent with, uh, your bedroom, I-I don't know if you knew that..." She trialed off unsure if she had ever really made a point.

He did know. More than one of Kelly's birthday surprises had been ruined by that vent.

"I uh," she started up again, throwing him a nervous glance, "I didn't mean to listen."

"How much did you hear?" He asked, after a moment of intimidating silence.

Abby shifted uncomfortably, "Enough to know you were in love once. That you're still in love. That you lost someone…lost more than anyone should lose," there were tears in her voice and aching heartbreak in her eyes but he held his face like a stone, "I'm sorry for you Gibbs," she swallowed a sob and fought for composure, "can I ask you a question?"

He nodded, though he wasn't sure why.

"Does it get easier?" she asked, her eyes suddenly wide and brimming with sincerity and cautious hope.

"Does what get easier?" He asked, his voice low and rough, a stark contrast to her tear-laden squeaks.

Abby inhaled sharply, "I don't know. Breathing, thinking, smiling, talking. Everything, Gibbs," she was talking through her sobs now, breathing between the gasps, needing to get through this before she lost it completely. Needing an answer. "Because it's so hard."

"Yeah," he nodded, "doesn't seem like it at first. But it'll get easier," and he was surprised to find that he meant it.

She nodded, processing. "And, um, can I ask another question?"

He nodded, reaching up to wipe a line of tears off her cheeks, a gesture that was so familiar to them both it made their hearts ache anew. "You never have to ask, Abbs," he said quietly.

She hesitated.

"Is it wrong that I don't want it to?" she asked finally, and couldn't even wait for a response as she flew into his arms, burying her face in his chest, her entire body shaking with the force of her tears.

Without having to think, Gibbs gathered her against him, smoothing her hair with one hand and keeping her close with the other.

"No," he whispered, "that's not wrong," he kissed her hair and it seemed to make her cry harder, "that's not wrong at all."

_TBC_


	8. Protect Her

**A/N:** Okay so I'm really trying to keep the pacing and characters from here on out. I mean, i was before, but up to the last chapter I was very sure of where I was going and how I was going to write it...this chapter just sort of spilled out and I'm not sure of it. So, hope you enjoy! -pj

**A/N2:** Btw, I named the OCs after three characters from my favorite shows. An Abby hug or a Tony grin goes to anyone who can name them! lol.

Gibbs was agitated and his agents knew enough to stay far off his radar. Thompson threw O'day a concerned look when, for the third time that morning, Gibbs gave the fax machine a good swift kick in the paper drawer to straighten it out. There was now a dent in the poor helpless machine and it was no closer to printing the document he required.

Thompson ducked back behind his desk monitor when Gibbs stalked by and O'day pretended to be engrossed in the paperwork covering his usually immaculate desk area.

Gibbs sat down at his desk and was still for a moment before allowing his eyes to slide over to his phone. He forbid himself to call down to the lab again. He knew the seventh request for an update on evidence would only continue to slow down the process. That and it was only a matter of time before Harris figured out his constant queries as to Abby's well-being were more than just casual, off-hand comments.

It was then that the object of his thoughts entered the squad-room, his hard-soled leather cowboy boots thudding loudly on the thin, industrial strength blue carpet.

"Ay-gent Gibbs," Harris clattered across the Unit to stand in front of Gibbs' desk. At some point he'd shed the white lab coat that was usually glued to his shoulders and instead wore a blue plaid button down shirt rolled up to the elbows, "I think I may have found a break in Abby's case."

Gibbs head snapped up and he stood, rounding his desk to come stand beside the scientist.

"I went back and took a closer look at the Admiral's computer. On his hard drive I found sevr'l password protected emails. That seemed a little strange so I traced them back to the original IP addresses and guess what I found?" Wisely, he chose not to make Gibbs guess, "they were awl sent from his own computer on the Naval base." Harris paused as they were joined by O'day and Thompson at Gibbs desk, to be sure he had not lost the older man in his technical lingo, "he was tracking somethin he didn't want anyone else to see or know about and was covering' his tracks by sending all the evidence to his home computer."

"Tracking what?" Thompson asked. Harris glanced at him and pulled a sheet of paper from the stack that was full of half-corrupted text.

"I was able to salvage a good part of it from the Admirals' burnt computer hard drive," Harris explained, "it was a money trail. Someone was embezzling from the Navy and the Admiral caught on and was going to bust them like wild bronco at a state fair."

O'day and Thompson gave the Forensic scientist a strange look for the analogy, but didn't say anything. They'd long ago grown used to the man's sometimes esoteric analogies.

Gibbs frowned, his mind's eye flashing back to the brief conversation he'd had with the Admiral the day before he died.

_"There a reason we couldn't have this meeting in your office?" _

_"Some of what I'm about to tell you is sensitive in nature and I don't need to worry about prying eyes and ears while I'm talking to you."_

"You got a name?" Gibbs practically growled, bringing all three men's attention back to him.

"Yessir," Harris turned the paper over to the senior agent, "Sean Brennan."

---

Abby sat away from her desk and stretched luxuriously. She'd been bent over a keyboard and mouse for nearly two hours trying to clear up the degraded photos Harris had given to her for some antsy agent from the third floor. She'd relished in the assignment at first as it kept her attention focused on the task and wasn't constantly wondering about the progress on 'her' case. Pluse, her computer was on the wall so she sat with her back to the room she didn't have to see the concerned glances Jonathan kept throwing in her direction.

She turned around and stood, her back sore from the movement, and pulled off her headphones.

"Hey Jonathan, I'm done," she called out, perplexed to find the lab was empty. It was a bit strange, but not unheard of. Jonathan was easily distracted by his one true love - evidence - and had probably taken off running when he got results for Gibbs.

She went to pick up the restored pictures off the printer and moved to set them on Jonathan's desk for him to check when he returned, but a blinking dialogue box on the screen caught her attention.

"Search results confirmed?" she read aloud and found herself sitting in Jonathan's chair, taking a closer look. She clicked through a few of the screens and was able to make out enough of the garbled data to realize it was some sort of financial ginger-bread trail. She scrolled down to the bottom of the screen and suddenly her breath caught.

_Sean Brennan_.

Her lip slipped in between her teeth as her eyes moved to the other monitor where their, as of yet, unidentified iridescent chip still gleamed expectantly for a name.

She knew she'd recognized it.

Still, the triumph of having 'solved the mystery' didn't bring her any joy. Instead she suddenly felt dizzy and a little nauseous and found herself gripping the side of the desk with one hand while frantically searching for her phone with the other.

Three rings and then a mechanical voice explaining in monotone how and when she should leave a message had her cursing under her breath with impatient anxiety.

"Zoe, hey. Listen I'm really sorry I haven't called. I've had some really serious shit going on and I haven't had a chance but…I need you to call me, okay? Like, yesterday. I really need to talk to you."

She paused as if to add more and then hung up. Her legs bounced agitatedly and she stared down at her phone, lying motionless on the desk as if she could will Zoe to call her. Of course, she couldn't and Abby had almost chewed all her fingernails down to nubs before she had a better idea.

She stood and went to the other computers in the main part of the lab and brought up the video of the entrance to the Naval base from the night of the fire. She ran the video through at one and a half speed, knowing exactly what she was looking for, and hoping against hope that she wouldn't find it.

Her eyes landed on the mid eighties corolla with the rust stain by the gas lid and she stopped the video. Rewind. Pause. She held her breath but it was no use. There was no mistaking that car; it had been parked in front of her house more times than she could remember.

Abby got up and ran to the nearby wastebasket, vomiting what little she'd eaten that day.

---

Thompson and O'day stood in observation with their arms crossed, focused fully on what was happening on the other side of the glass. Sean Brennan, a young petty officer with a red face and fidgety hands, was currently receiving the brunt of Gibbs' mute stare. His eyes were bouncing like pinballs around the room and every now and then, when Gibbs would ask him a question his knee would start to bounce and he'd answer, too quickly 'no'.

The man was guilty if they'd ever seen it.

Suddenly Thompson's pocket began to vibrate and he fumbled for his cell phone in his jeans.

"Thomps-honey?...right now? You're sure…Well, I only ask because last time-oh...Whoa...Okay. I'm on my way," he shut the phone and glanced at Gibbs and then at his partner. "Baby time," he shrugged, "tell the boss for me."

O'day nodded once. He certainly hoped the kid came this time. It had been three false alarms so far and Gibbs was not known for his patience. Or his understanding.

The hairs on the back of the agent's neck started to rise when he realized the light from the hallway had disappeared after the doorw as shut, but he felt he was no longer alone in the room. He turned around in one efficient move, his hand sliding unconsciously toward his belt, but fell away again when he realized who it was.

"Abby? What are you doing here?" he glanced over his shoulder at Gibbs, "I don't think you should-"

"I need to talk to Gibbs," she said, her voice soft and rough.

"Not a good idea, Abby. He's in interrogation. I think there's a rule."

"Number 22," Abby supplied and O'day gave her a look. She walked further into the room, pulling a long-sleeved black shirt down over her hands and went straight up to the glass.

"How do you…"

Abby didn't answer. Instead she lifted her hand and, before O'day could stop her, she had knocked swiftly and firmly against the glass.

In interrogation Gibbs head lifted slowly and Brennan's eyes shifted from the ceiling to the mirror, his brows knitted together. Gibbs stood up so fast his chair fell over and he stalked over to the door, whipping it open and slamming it shut again.

"What the hell-?" He started as soon as he had the door to observation open.

O'day glanced at Abby but said nothing as Gibbs walked right into his personal space.

"Can I help you, Special Agent O'day?"

"He didn't do it, Gibbs."

He looked over at Abby for the first time, his look changing slightly, not really softening, but not not softening either.

"You interrupted my interrogation?"

"No," she frowned and then, "well, yeah, but that's not what I'm talking about. I mean him," she pointed at Brennan, "_he _didn't do it."

Gibbs nodded, his jaw clenched together tightly, "Yeah, I know." He turned around to leave at Abby's perplexed look.

"You know?"

"Yeah, Abbs, I know," he nodded impatiently, "and don't ever knock on my glass again."

Abby nodded, "point taken, but if you know he didn't do it why are you going to interrogate him s'more?" She asked, following him out into the hallway.

Gibbs sighed and did an about-face, the patience in his voice clearly forced, "Because he might know who did."

She nodded, not missing a beat and her eyes grew distant again, "he does."

Gibbs tilted his head.

"But you're wasting your time. He would never rat out his baby sister."

---

Abby sat at Gibbs' desk in the Squad room, her feet pulled up onto the chair with her arms wrapped around her legs as she tried to explain how she'd come to the conclusion she had.

O'day was making phone calls at his desk, trying to locate the young Miss Brennan while Harris paced the length of the Unit between the desks. Gibbs stood to one side of his desk staring at the large corkboard where they displayed all the interviews, crime scene photos and other pertinent evidence. And it was apparently a slow day in Autopsy because even Ducky was there, adding his own two cents every now and then. It didn't occur to her to think he'd taken time out of his day to help with the investigation because he cared about the outcome.

"How was it that young Zoe came to be a suspect, then?" Ducky asked, eyeing to school photo of the blue-eyed blond on the board in front of Gibbs.

Abby lifted her head from her knees, "I saw the results of the Hard Drive Recovery that Jonathan ran on Granddad's computer," she began, making a great effort to keep her voice detached, a she knew it should be when delivering facts, "I saw the name of the PO Sean Brennan and it jogged my memory of where I've seen that," she pointed at the print out picture of their 'unidentified iridescent chip', "it's the color nail polish Zoe always wears. The mass spec will identify it as a mixture of methacrylate, formaldehyde, acetone…probably a host of others," she trialed off and looked up at Gibbs, "I know I'm right about this."

The only problem was she didn't want to be. And Gibbs knew it.

"What else you got?" he asked quietly.

Abby sighed, "Well when I put two and two together I went back and looked at the security footage of the gate to the base from the day of the…incidents." She shifted uncomfortably, "Jonathan wouldn't have known what to look for, but I know her car. She came on base with the authorization _I _gave her when we were science partners last semester, a half hour before Grandad and I left the base, and didn't leave for another hour. She wasn't there visiting me Gibbs and that gives her plenty of time to tamper with the brakes on Grandad's car _and _set things in motion for starting the fire."

Gibbs' frown was unreadable as she stared up at him, but she got the feeling he wasn't pleased about something, but she wasn't sure what. She didn't get a chance to ask because in that moment O'day stood up and rushed around the desk to shove a stack of papers into his boss' hands.

"Zoe and Sean Brennan's parents died eight years ago when they were nine and eighteen respectively," he received from memory, "after that the boy raised his sister, supporting them both on the salary he received as a Office Clerk in the Navy. Sean's listed as average intelligence but the his sister Zoe's IQ is off the charts. The court appointed psychologist that evaluated her after her parents death expressed concern over some 'potentially sociopathic behaviors'," his dark eyes flitted toward Abby briefly when she gasped and tightened her arms around her legs, unconsciously shaking her head at the information.

"Dear lord," Ducky breathed, and turned to Abby, "how do you know this girl? What could be her motive?"

Abby seemed to struggle with her answer, opening and closing her mouth several times before she simply shrugged, "we're friends. I mean, I thought...good friends."

O'day was the first to break the ensuing silence.

"She's in a summer program for Electrical Engineering at the University," he said, looking back at Gibbs, "and her last boyfriend was a mechanic."

Gibbs looked up at him, pursing his lips and clenching his jaw.

"It's enough for a warrant. Grab your gear." He was just about to move toward his desk when a soft vibrating noise interrupted them and they all turned to look at Abby, who in turn reached for her phone, vibrating across Gibbs' desk calendar.

She cursed almost silently and looked up at Gibbs with wide, shocked eyes, "it's her."

_TBC_


	9. What Hurts The Most

**A/N: **I've been super busy planning a wedding (not mine, thank goodness, but I'm the MoH for the first time EVER and I'm freaking out) so I haven't had a chance to reply personally to reviews, but i am getting them, I am reading them and I AM loving them, so please don't stop sending them, m'kay? lol. Thanks so much again to all readers and reviewers and I hope you enjoy this chap! -pj

"What do I do? Gibbs," Abby had leapt from her seat and was standing, practically glued to Gibbs' side, staring at the humming phone with a horrorstricken look on her face.

"Why is she calling?"

"I-I…"

"Abby," he said, his tone was harsh and it made her wince.

"I-I guess I might've called her," Abby admitted, wincing slightly at the look he threw at her, "Okay, don't look at me like that. I didn't know what else to do Gibbs!" she exclaimed, her words spilling out faster and faster in an attempt to explain herself,"I went to find Jonathon but he wasn't there and then I saw the results and it reminded me of the nail polish she always wears so I checked and found the video of her car," she glanced toward the phone, still vibrating urgently and then back at Gibbs, "I just wanted to talk to her, just to hear her side but…but now…"

He stared at her a moment and she expected the worst. But he didn't scold her for operating outside of procedure like she expected, or glare her into oblivion for keeping things from him. Instead, as she watched, he simply reached out, picked up the small device, and held it out to her.

"Answer it."

Her mouth fell open and she looked, first at the phone, then at him, then back at the phone, and back at him again. Uncertainty, fear, anger and disbelief tumbled across her face in turn but Gibbs held her gaze steady. She pulled her bottom lip into her teeth and he nodded once, giving her assurance and courage in that single motion.

Abby hesitated one last moment and then snatched the phone from his palm before she could change her mind.

"H-hello?" she said, wishing there was something she could do about the tears still lingering in her voice.

Gibbs turned and looked at Harris, pointing at O'day's desk. The man didn't understand what he wanted but he obeyed the silent order anyway.

"Track it," Gibbs demanded, snatching a pad of paper of the desk and scribbling a note before handing it to Abby.

**'Keep her talking.'**

Abby swallowed hard but nodded, settling down again in Gibbs' desk chair.

"_Abby, I got your message, are you alright?" _Zoe's voice came across the line, sounding as concerned and upset as any friend would be if they'd received the message Abby had left.

Abby bit her lip, answering without thinking, "no."

"_No? What happened?"_

Her eyes opened and she watched as Gibbs pulled out his cell phone, made some motion at Harris, and started toward the elevator.

"There was an accident," she said, her voice oddly detached, "grandpa and I were in an accident."

"_Oh my- are you alright? Is he?"_

She shook her head, forgetting Zoe could not see her, "no. He's not Zo."

No.

He wasn't.

Her sweet, kind, loving grandfather with the 'take no prisoners' Marine attitude and that gruff exterior who never treated her with anything other than love and indulgence…no. He was not okay. The funeral was on Saturday. The man she loved more than just about anything in life…the one who could tell her moods by the way she wore her hair. Who could read her smiles as easily as he read a book. The man who introduced her to science and taught her that it was okay to be angry sometimes, and sad sometimes and happy a lot.

Her grandfather was gone.

So no. He was not okay.

And neither was she.

"He's gone." And it was in that moment that Abby realized the gravity of what she'd lost over the past four days. It knocked the wind out of her and she closed her eyes to keep from falling on the floor.

"_Oh my God Abby, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" _

Abby bit her tongue so hard she was sure she tasted blood. Zoe was responsible for her loss, she was sure of it. And here she was, playing the part of concerned friend as if she'd done nothing at all.

"No, I'm not alright I-" She began, ready to lay it all out on the line, call Zoe out for what she'd done and demand answers, but just as the words bubbled forth her eyes dropped down to the paper Gibbs had slipped her.

**'Keep her talking.'**

If she said something now, Zoe would just hang up the phone and run. She was pretty and smart, it wouldn't be hard for her to disappear and start a new life, maybe with her idiot brother and maybe not. Either way, Abby's family would not receive justice. And that was something Abby could not bear to let happen.

"_Abby? What's going on?" _

"There was a fire too," she blurted out, "dad…dad and mom were caught in it."

"_Oh my God. You should have called me! Abby where are you? I'll come over right now."_

"No!" Abby exclaimed, causing Jonathan to look up from his computer. "Don't. I mean, you can't," she continued, a bit calmer.

"_Why not? Abby, I'm your best friend I should be-"_

"No, you can't." Abby insisted.

"_What? Why not?" _Zoe asked sounding indignant.

Abby frowned, trying to think of a viable excuse, "Because…because I'm at the hospital. My mom's in the ICU, no visitors allowed." She did her best to sound upset, which wasn't so much of a stretch, it turned out.

"_Oh. Okay. God, Abby, this is unreal. What do you want me to do? What can I do?" _

Abby swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding and her eyes burned and her throat was hoarse from holding back tears. She just wanted to sleep. Wanted this all to be over.

"Just…keep talking," she said finally, leaning back in the chair, "it helps to hear your voice," she lied.

---

Jonathan had been tracing the phone call per Gibbs' rather explicit instructions and also keeping one eye on Abby across the room, also per Gibbs' instructions. She hadn't spoken in several minutes other than a few 'hmm's and 'oh yeah's but the signal remained strong, so whatever she'd said had the girl on the other end talking continuously.

"_How is she?" _Gibbs' voice came over the phone in his ear.

"She's okay," he said, because it was as close to the truth as he could get.

"Alright, confirm address 1456 Flower Street."

"Confirmed. Go get 'er Ay-gent Gibbs." Harris encouraged, and the response he received was a dial tone. He hung up the phone and a few seconds later the trace went down. He looked over at Abby. She'd sat up from her slightly reclined position at Gibbs' desk and her face was no longer in forced relaxation, instead tight and pained, staring down at her phone lying on the desk. Her eyes began to water as she stood, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Abby," he stood as well, but Abby brushed past him.

"I need to use the head."

He watched her disappear into the ladies room across the bullpen and nodded, sitting back down. She wanted to be alone. He could give her that.

Even if he could do nothing else for her, he could do that.

---

Abby slouched against the wall of the stall, her shaking fingers fumbling with the lock until it slid into place and she dropped down to the floor. There were no sobs this time, in fact she was sure she didn't make a sound as the tears flowed freely from her eyes and down her face.

She'd just spent the last ten minutes on the phone with her family's killer.

She should have put it together sooner. She should have known there was something odd about that girl. She should've…done something.

She reached up and swiped a hand across her eyes.

But the thing that really got to her was _why _she was crying. In the span of less than a week she'd lost a home, four years worth of memories, a grandfather, a father, a brother and her mother. But she wasn't crying for any of those things in that moment.

She was crying because she had actually felt a little bit better. When Zoe was talking to her, catching her up on all the gossip from the clubs and the soap operas and playing the 'best friend' card like it was a royal flush…she'd felt better. She'd been reassured. That was what killed her. She'd been comforted by the person who'd done all this to her in the first place.

"_Anyway, she totally turned him down even though she doesn't have a date yet for the dance but she thinks…hold on Abbs, I think I hear something outside."_

_Abby's eyes flipped open and she held her breath. _

"_That's weird, I don't see anything but I could've sworn…oh my God," there was a pause and a ruffle of clothing on the other end and Abby waited, "the cops! The cops are here...that's why you kept me on the phone. So they could trace me, you bitch!" even through the phone Abby could hear the fear in her voice and footsteps pounding on the stairs, "I can't believe you would do this to me you-"_

_Abby pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. _

For a moment she'd actually been comforted by her families' murderer.

What kind of a person did that make her?

---

When the elevator opened on the second floor Gibbs was already scanning the bull pen for Abby. He turned back and nodded at O'day, one hand gripping young Zoe's arm firmly despite her small size.

She'd proven to be more of a difficult arrestee than he'd anticipated. He made a point not to rub his side, he'd be feeling that bruise tomorrow.

"Interrogation Two."

O'day nodded and started to lead the girl away, her eyes blank and downcast, her mouth caught somewhere between a scowl and a sneer.

He turned to look again for Abby but instead found Harris approaching from his team's section of the Unit.

"Is that 'er?" he said, watching O'day lead the girl away, "she's so young."

"Harris, where's Abby," Gibbs was well aware of the girl's age. Abby's age.

"She, she uh," Harris tore his eyes off O'day and brought them back to a stern faced Gibbs, "she wawnted some privacy," he gestured toward the ladies room a few feet behind them, "she went in there a few minutes ago."

Gibbs frowned at that, giving O'day a long-suffering look, "how long is a few minutes, Harris?" he grumbled, already turning to enter the bathroom Jonathan had indicated. the other amn thought about pointing out to the older agent that it was the Women's bathroom, but, when Gibbs marched right past the female agent washing her hands at the sink, he decided the point was probably moot.

Gibbs bent over to check both stalls and then stood straight again, turning toward Harris who was still hovering in the door.

"She's not here," he informed him, his eyebrows raised expectantly, "where is she?"

Harris looked confused, "you sure?" He started inside the bathroom but a tree-like limb shot out and pushed him back.

"I'm sure," Gibbs assured him, his voice deathly quiet. Jonathan looked up and swallowed hard, "_find_ her."

The look on Gibbs face said it would be in Harris' best interest to follow his orders without comment. And he'd never been a man to tempt the fates.

"Yessir."

---

Abby came up from the back stairs with a fresh mug of coffee in her hands. She didn't really like to drink it late in the day, but she was feeling drained and exhausted and couldn't think of anything else that would help.

As she came around the corner to the bullpen she saw Gibbs and Harris outside the Women's restroom, the former leaning far into the latter's personal space, a dangerous mix of disappointment and impatience on his face.

Abby tilted her head, wondering what they were arguing about, and absently reached into her pocket for her vibrating cell phone.

"This is Abby."

"Abigail Scuito?"

She looked away as Gibbs turned toward interrogation and Harris entered the elevator, concentrating on the voice in her ear.

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Dr. Babinaux at Meadow Spring Hospital," the woman told her, and Abby closed her eyes.

"My mom?" She asked shakily, almost affraid to hear the answer.

"Um, well, would it be possible for you to come down-"

"Just tell me." Abby said, leaning against the wall, her stomach dropping to her feet.

There was a long pause when Abby became aware of background noise on the other end of the line. Hushed conversations. Ringing telephones, beeping monitors.

None of it sounded promising.

"I'm sorry Abigail, we've lost-"

Abby hung up.

---

O'day stared through the glass of the observation room into interrogation. He was used to dealing with Marines and Navy officers in interrogation. Men and women trained to handle uncomfortable situations, some even trained in interrogation evasion techniques.

But none of them had ever left him with the cold pressure in the pit of his stomach that looking into this girl's eyes did.

She didn't move the entire time he watched her. She didn't sweat. Didn't cry. Didn't ask for a lawyer or try to explain.

The whole thing left him feeling uneasy and he was glad he was not responsible for interrogating the strange girl.

He turned to look over his shoulder when he heard the door open, expecting to see Gibbs or perhaps Harris with new information. Maybe even Thompson after another false alarm from his wife. But he couldn't have been more surprised to see Abby herself walking through the door.

"You shouldn't be here," he said immediately, turning toward her. Abby's light eyes flicked up at him and then away, landing on the girl in interrogation.

"I have to be." Her voice was low and flat, but it was the unexpected strength behind it that caught him off-guard, and the fiery determination in her gaze that made him agree.

"If Gibbs finds out I let you stay he'll kill me," he pointed out, but didn't attempt to stop her from taking a spot beside him.

Abby didn't seem to hear him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight through the glass at the young woman sitting alone in interrogation.

In that moment, as if she could sense the other girl's penetrating gaze, Zoe lifted her head and stared straight back.

_TBC_


	10. Nightmares Can't Hurt You

**A/N:** I've been loving the reviews everybody (thanks for the support on my MoH status, lol) and here's the next chap! I'm not very happy with it, lots of expostion and it didn't come out quite the way I wanted, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. -pj

Abby wasn't one of those people who remembered her dreams. She almost never did. But this was more like a nightmare and, unfortunately, she always remembered those.

O'day stood beside her in the observation room, occasionally glancing in her direction while they waited for Gibbs to come in and begin interrogation.

They didn't have to wait long.

---

When the door to Interrogation 2 opened, Gibbs walked in with a manila folder under one arm and moved to sit in the chair opposite Zoe's. The girl's eyes remained fixed on the one-way mirror until the last moment when they snapped to Gibbs' face. Her expression was a cross between bored and suspicious but despite her young age and seemingly innocent appearance there was a decidedly cold and apathetic quality to her stare that seemed to belie her years.

Gibbs didn't looked up as he opened the folder and slid photos across the table toward her, one after the other.

---

On the other side of the glass O'day shifted and glanced at Abby. Knowing what was in the pictures his first instinct was to protect her from seeing them, to usher her from the room. Abby swallowed hard, her eyes burning and filling with tears. She didn't even give him the chance to suggest it.

"No," she said, her voice barely audible, "I'm staying." She had to.

O'day sighed but nodded, returning his gaze to the suspect.

---

Zoe dropped her eyes to the photos lined up in front of her. Autopsy photos of what was left of Abby's grandfather and father, along with the missing person's picture Abby had created of her younger brother, and a photo of her mother taken while she was in the Burn Unit.

Her lip began to quiver and she shook her head.

"Poor Abby," she said, her voice lined with tears, "I can't imagine," she lifted one hand to gently touch the photo of Bobby with such tenderness that Gibbs narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

---

Every muscle in Abby's body tensed and she held her breath to keep from cursing.

---

"How is she?" she asked desperately, bringing her gaze back to Gibbs, "is anyone with her?"

Gibbs pursed his lips and didn't respond. He'd seen a lot of good acts in his time, but this had to top the list.

"What happened, Zoe?" He asked quietly.

She shook her head again, lifting her hand to swipe at her eyes, "so stupid."

"What is?"

"You mean who. My brother," she looked angry as she continued, "he's so stupid. I told him to leave it alone. That I would handle it but…" she paused a moment and then shrugged, "he's my big brother, you know? He just wanted to protect me."

Gibbs folded his hands to lean closer, "from what?"

Zoe paused and dropped her eyes, picking at a loose thread in her jeans, "Abby I guess," she mumbled.

---

O'day saw in his peripheral vision the way Abby's eyes widened and her jaw fell and took a small step closer to her, though he doubted she noticed.

---

When Gibbs didn't respond Zoe continued, "She always wanted everything that was mine. My clothes, my friends, my grades. I tried to help her as much as I could but…I just couldn't do everything. I – I went crying to my brother one day and," she shrugged again, looking as if the admission had cost her dearly, "I guess he decided to fix the problem once and for all."

Both rooms were silent for several long moments. Gibbs sat perfectly still, his eyes boring into Zoe's, but the girl never shifted.

---

Abby's her whole body trembled with barely contained rage and O'day glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"That's a lie," Abby whispered, sounding dismayed, "those are all lies."

---

"We got a warrant for your house on base," Gibbs said finally, reaching back into his file folder and, this time pulling out an evidence photo of a power drill and a pair of leather gloves, "found these."

Zoe shifted in her seat when she glanced at them but her neutral mask never slipped.

"What are those?"

"I think you know what they are." Gibbs stated coolly, "We matched the tampering marks on the Admiral's vehicle to this drill, and fibers from these gloves to both the drill and the Admiral's home."

"My brother-"

"Your brother was at a training in Norfolk on the day of the murders," Gibbs interrupted, trading the careful neutrality of his voice for hard-edged anger, "_you_ did this."

Zoe almost seemed physically struck by his words, and she dropped her chin to her chest, seemingly to compose herself. A moment later, she looked up again, this time her blue eyes cold and devoid of all emotion except disgust as she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"My brother," she spat, "my _idiot _brother who couldn't follow two simple instructions. 'Stay in the house'. 'Burn the gloves'," she scoffed and looked at the ceiling, "I always said he was useless."

"I don't think your brother wears nail polish."

She seemed surprised by that, "what?"

He pulled one last photo from the folder and grabbed her hand to set it beside the blown up photo of a greenish-purple nail polish chip. The exact same shade painting Zoe's fingers.

"Perfect match."

Zoe looked up, glaring, but didn't say anything.

"Why," Gibbs asked, folding his suddenly homicidal hands tightly to keep them occupied.

Zoe gave him a bored look, "does it matter? I'm going to jail anyway."

"You'll be lucky not to get the chair," Gibbs countered.

Zoe thought about this and then shrugged again, "not worried. No jury will convict me."

Gibbs stood and moved to the far corner of the room to decrease the temptation to leap across the table. This girl had caused so much harm, so much death. He'd been watching Abby self destruct for days, cry until she had no more tears, stare into the black abyss of guilt for hours on end and sitting across from a killer, a friend turned enemy, so nonchalant about their actions, was proving to be too much. "You don't think so?"

"I know so," she stated confidently, "a little lace collar, long blonde hair and watery blue eyes. Parents are dead, brother in the navy? C'mon. Juries eat that stuff up. At most I'll get parole and a few mandated visits to a shrink."

Gibbs didn't have time to form a response before the door flew open and a streak of black attacked the suspect.

---

O'day had never seen someone move so fast. One moment Abby was standing beside him, breathing hard and fighting tears, but there. The next, she was gone and the door to the observation room was closing peacefully in her wake.

"It was _your _nail polish!" Abby's small fists pummeled into Zoe's lithe frame, pulling at her hair as they both tumbled across the table, "_You_ were the one that tampered with grandpa's brakes and _you_ were the one that started the fire that killed my family. _You killed my family!_"

Too soon Abby felt strong hands around her waist, lifting her off the other girl. Zoe lunged after her but O'day was already there, grabbing her from behind and swiftly slapping cuffs onto her wrists.

"What did I ever do to you?!" Abby screamed, hysterical and red-faced from the effort, "what did I ever do??" She sounded broken.

Zoe pulled hard against O'days grip on her arms, "you slept with my boyfriend you slut!" she shouted, "and I swear I'd kill them all over again if I could." She only sounded angry.

Abby could feel Gibbs' presence at her back, his chest vibrating as he spoke, but for some reason she couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear anything, couldn't think or feel.

She'd stopped struggling against him and realized it was because all she could process in that moment was the sound of Zoe's voice.

The same voice that had comforted her, brought her back from the edge just over an hour ago now sliced so deep she could feel herself bleeding from the inside out.

_I swear I'd kill them all over again if I could. _

Stopped moving and breathing.

_All over again if I could. _

She watched as O'day lead Zoe from the room. Her expression was cold and hard, her eyes flooded with hatred, holding Abby's gaze.

Without a thought, Abby followed out into the hallway.

"I don't know what's sadder," she heard herself say and watched as Zoe turned around, "the fact that you have no idea what it's like to be really loved, so that you would think I would do something like that…or the fact that now you have ruined so many lives because you were jealous of someone that was never even a threat."

"What are you talking about?" Zoe asked scornfully.

Abby took a ragged breath and took a small step forward, but Gibbs wasn't relinquishing his grip.

"He did come on to me. During one of our tutoring lessons," Abby said, aware that their display had attracted a small group of spectators of agents passing by, "But I didn't sleep with him. I told him I-" her voice cracked and she bit her lip, "I couldn't do that to a friend." She dropped her head to her chest and took a deep breath. They seemed harder to come by these days.

For a moment her mind was flooded with all the anger and hurt and guilt and betrayal that had been her life for the past week. The faces of her mother and father and grandfather and Bobby.

And suddenly she wasn't sad anymore

"But if I had, I _guarantee _you I would have been so good, he never would've thought of you _ever_ again. Just like he's not going to now." Abby's chin trembled but only the raw edged fury was audible in her voice.

_I'd kill them all over again._

"When you're away in prison, and that psychotic brain of yours is idle and rotting away and you know four padded white walls and a straight jacket better than your own name, I'll still be here. Still living. But you won't be. Because now you've not only ruined my life, but you've screwed up your brothers and yours too," Abby shook her head, a note of pity in her eyes, "You're parents would be so proud."

_If I could._

She took another step forward, unbridled rage trembling in her voice. Her usually frenetic mind was single-mindedly focused on Zoe as she continued, "And you know what I hope? I hope you live a long, long, long time. And that you get to suffer through the maddening guilt and heartache of knowing that you ruined so many lives...for no reason at all. You're a sad person and you'll be getting off easy if you rot in hell."

With that she turned away, aware of shouting behind her as she took off at a full run through mounds of hands and chests and voices and slammed past someone getting off the elevator and jammed her fist against the buttons, willing to go anywhere, everwhere, and never come back.

But the elevator wasn't moving. The door wasn't closing. The world wasn't ending so she kept hitting the stupid elevator buttons until she could feel warm blood on her fingertips, but still couldn't bring herself to stop. Balled up fists of rage and desperation slammed against the panel in time with the pounding in her skull. Her vision was blurry and her legs felt weak and she was sure she was drowning because she just couldn't seem to breathe or think or talk.

If she had been able to do any of that she would have realized the warm, safe, solid body surrounding her wasn't a dream and she would have believed him when he said the nightmare was finally over.

_TBC_


	11. Alone Now

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay everyone, here's the next chapter! -pj

Gibbs wasn't sure how long they sat there in the darkened elevator while he waited for Abby to come back down from the edge.

He knew it was several minutes, because his arm was going to sleep and his fingers were tingly from the repetitive motion of stroking her hair. Every desperate sob that ripped from her chest squeezed his until he could hardly breathe.

After a while, a long while, he could feel her turning boneless in his arms, exhausted.

He waited, relaxing his grip enough for her to shift against him, curling up in a ball under his chin.

"Gibbs?" she whispered, voice hoarse.

"Yeah," he answered, smoothing her hair back from her warm face.

"Did I do this?" she asked, her voice somewhere between a whisper and a squeak.

Gibbs stopped moving.

"What?"

Abby's grip on his jacket tightened and he cut her off as she started to repeat herself.

"Did-"

"No." he said, a bit more forcefully than necessary and he felt Abby tense further.

She nodded and suddenly sat up and away from him, scooting back to sit against the wall of the elevator kiddie corner from him.

"Yeah," she swiped her arm across her nose, eyes glued to the floor, "I'm sure you're right."

"Are you?" he asked quietly, resting his elbows on his knees.

Abby shrugged silently, needing several minutes more before she could respond, "I just can't help but think that," she shrugged again, folding her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees, "maybe I sent Kyle the wrong signals, you know? Maybe I _was_ too needy with Zoe. I don't know. Sometimes I do things and don't realize I'm doing them," she rambled, never lifting her eyes from her shoes.

"Abby," Gibbs said, calling her attention to him, "look at me."

After a moment, she complied.

"None of this, _none of it_, is your fault." He practically whispered, the intensity of his gaze almost demanding that she believe him, "you understand me, Abby? It's her fault, and _only _hers."

She started to shake her head, "then why am I the only one left?"

Gibbs watched her eyes fill with tears and an old familiar pang of guilt mingled with new understanding warred inside his chest. He realized that, in that moment, there was nothing he could say to ease her pain. So it didn't really matter that he couldn't find the words.

"Your mother?" He said, his gut twisting forebodingly.

Abby pursed her lips and shook her head, "the hospital called me about an hour ago."

Gibbs clenched his jaw. He'd left them explicit instructions to call _him _if there was any news. He hated to think of Abby receiving any more bad news, let alone from someone who didn't know her and over the phone. He lifted one arm and beckoned her to him. Abby slid back over to be beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're not alone, Abby," he said quietly after a moment, his lips brushing against her hair, "And _we_ are going to get through this."

_TBC_


	12. Some Answers Leave More Questions

**A/N:** OMG, it's been waaaay too long since I updated this! The end is giving me fits so I'm just posting what I have so far. Finally, the mystery of Bobby Scuito is solved...Enjoy! -pj

**"**What am I gonna tell Bobby?" Abby asked quietly after several moments of silence.

Gibbs didn't respond, unsure of what the proper response was, and Abby misunderstood his silence.

"He _is_ alive Gibbs. I know he is. I would feel it if he wasn't," she stated vehemently, craning her neck to get a good look at him, daring him to disagree. Gibbs looked at her for a moment before finally dropping a kiss onto her forehead and pulling her up to stand.

"Ready?"

Abby studied him a moment more, wondering why he didn't assure her or, worse, tell her she was wrong. But, she decided, Gibbs was the kind of person who left one with more questions than answers usually anyway.

She took a deep breath and nodded, Gibbs flipped the switch.

To Abby the ride up to the second floor squad room seemed to take an eternity, and somehow it was still not long enough. She wasn't ready to face her coworkers and friends who had witnessed her breakdown half an hour before. She wasn't ready to face a world bigger than this elevator, that felt small and safe with only she and Gibbs inside it.

She wasn't ready for an arrest and a trial and three funerals to deliver bad news to distant relatives she barely knew. For empty houses and full boxes and too much silence.

She wasn't ready to believe this was really her life now.

When the doors opened Abby hesitated, allowing Gibbs to exit first, absently curling her small hands up into the long black sleeves of her shirt. He turned around when he felt her fall behind, a quick jerk of his head urging her to follow.

Abby dropped her eyes to the floor, watching her new, clunky boots carry her out of the lift and into the Squad Room. She didn't look up even when she could feel the various gazes of curious agents on her skin, and Gibbs encouraging hand at her back.

"Abby!"

Finally she pulled her eyes off the floor, the urgent tone in O'day's voice demanding her attention. She wasn't used to him sounding so excited.

"What?" she asked, frowning in confusion at the look of delight spreading across his rugged face, "What did I miss?"

He crossed the Unit to them in three steps.

"What?" she looked to her left, "Gibbs?"

He had no answer to give her, and instead kept his eyes fixed on his probie while his hand lifted to Abby's shoulder and squeezed, keeping the troubled girl grounded.

"What is it?" his tone slightly sharper than necessary, but it got the agent's attention. He pointed behind them to the main elevator on the other side of the squad room.

"That."

Abby and Gibbs both turned in time to see a woman in a faded green pantsuit and fake plastic pearls exit the lift with a short, dark-haired, blue-eyed boy beside her. His round face was somewhat puzzled as he scanned the wide open space of the squad room for familiarity before turning a questioning gaze up at the woman. She smiled warmly and pointed across the way to where Abby stood beside Gibbs.

Abby recognized him the moment he appeared, and from that moment was unable to move.

_Bobby_.

Terrified this was just another hope-filled dream she watched in wide eyed disbelief as his light eyes searched the room for her face, Abby stayed frozen to her spot. When the woman pointed her out, a grin so wide it was painful spread across his lips and she was jolted into action, tearing across the unit with the same elation reflected in his smile.

"Bobby!" she cried as they crashed into one another and Abby was knocked to her knees as she wrapped her arms around him with all the strength she thought she'd lost moments before. She could feel her chest jerking with the strange combination of laughter and sobs as her hands roamed the boy's face and arms, needing his small, but solid mass to confirm the reality.

Having never heard his own voice, Bobby's own noises of joy and relief were loud and awkward to the quiet observes surrounding them, but to Abby, who's world had shrunk to the size of her little brother and the moment they were in, they were the sweetest sounds in the world.

After several minutes Abby pulled back, pushing Bobby out to arms length so there was enough room to sign between them. Immediately their hands were moving, whipping and clapping and slicing through the air so fast even Gibbs had trouble keeping up.

Finally, assured that he was all right, Abby stood up to look at the woman who had brought him while crushing Bobby to her side. His arms remained tightly clasped around her small waist, his hands in a white knuckle grip on her belt.

"What happened? Where has he been?" she asked urgently, resting her hand on his shoulder. She'd noticed he wasn't wearing his own clothes. Though clean, the striped orange sweater and jeans were not quite Bobby's size and rode up around his middle.

"An older couple, Seth and Ellen Morgan brought him to State Family Services four days ago, we've been trying to figure out who he is and locate his family but were having some problems with communication."

"Why not just ask him to write it down?" O'days asked, somewhat confrontational. Abby was the one to answer, turning to look down at her brother, who was still clinging to her waist.

"Bobby's dyslexic. He doesn't read or write very well," she looked back up at the woman with a frown, "you could have gotten a translator."

The social worker smiled apologetically, she looked as if she hadn't slept in days, "afraid they're hard to come by this time of year. She didn't arrive until this morning."

Bobby wasn't looking at his sister, but had been reading the lips of the social worker adeptly.

_The M-o-r-g-a-n_, he spelled out with one hand, much slower than before_, people were nice. She made me cookies. _

Abby smiled and nodded, about to turn back to the case worker, but Bobby tugged on her sleeve, _I want to see Gloria and Russell and Pop pop._

Abby's jaw clicked shut and she bit her lip as tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. The joy she'd felt bubble up at seeing her little brother rushed out of her again like a loosed avalanche and suddenly she was left with the devastating reality of having to tell the small, innocent boy he would never see their parents or beloved Grandpa 'Pop pop' ever again.

She bit her lip and looked at Gibbs, who's eyes were cloudy and dark, but somehow lending her the strength she needed.

"Oh Bobby," she whispered, clutching the boy to her so she could hide her face from his view.

"O'day," Gibbs began, his eyes locked on the two as they huddled together.

"Got it Boss," he responded before Gibbs could even give him an order. Gibbs looked at him and nodded knowing the former Marine understood his meaning. Collecting his coat from the back of his chair he ushered Abby and Bobby toward the elevator

"Take care of 'em Boss."

Gibbs locked eyes with the junior agent and nodded as the elevator doors closed between them.

_TBC_


	13. It Feels Like the End

**A/N:** So this is the end, and it is bitter sweet. On the one hand, a really fun ride in this fic is ending, but it frees me up to begin a new one! I am so glad that this fic got the response it did and I want to thank _**Forensic Girl 554, teal'c08, Hope06, EO-6313-4015, Sophie's-Welt, dramaqueen321, STLFAN, power214063, jediyam, Frankies Girl 21, LabRatsRule, slytherinfan, Roxie-Lee, abbyfan95, KateCayce, peppe1951, JonasBROgirl8815, GibbsGirlAbby, cai-ann, ascifigirl, crs529, firedrakegirl, KellyRoxton, diana teo **_**(hey girl! wassup??)**_**, Unfinished Perfection, finlaure **_**(good to hear from you again!),**_** FillmoreFan, Aunt Kitty, purple. bookworm .girl, GardenRiver, Katherine8790, purpledragonfly74, Raven, TardisCalling, Sara, Madison-Gibbs, Just me and myself, 0melting. snow0, TheatreActress, CharlieBlue1977,**_ _**Eliza-angel, Julie507, LittleSpooky, MoonlightAngel220, Tragicpoetry1, Berlain **_**and**_** Aqua Mage**_, who have all left me at least one if not multiple reviews. You guys are awesome. That's right, YOU. So this one is written especially for you reviewers, I give thee: el FIN, enjoy! -pj

Bobby usually had an insatiable curiosity that bordered on obsessive. Abby couldn't remember a time when his hands weren't flying around in enthusiastic inquiry and wide eyed fascination.

Yet the entire ride back to Gibbs' house the boy sat motionless and silent beside his sister, content to let unanswered questions lie. Maybe he was afraid he already knew the answers.

Gibbs, who usually relished in the quiet gaps between conversations, felt for the first time a bit uncomfortable in the silence. With Abby around, he'd grown used to the quiet being filled with her rambling banter and shameless humming.

He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Abby with her chin resting on Bobby's head, gently tousling his hair. He knew she was more than relieved to have him back, he could also see the uncertainty and turmoil boiling just beneath the surface in her eyes.

Late that night Abby was finding sleep elusive. She hadn't been able to avoid the subject any longer once they got to Gibbs' house and the sight of Bobby's crumpled and tear-stained face floated in her mind, refusing to allow her to sleep.

She padded into the kitchen, leaving Bobby to snore peacefully on the couch, and quietly poured herself a glass of milk. She was about to slip out the back door to the porch when she noticed the door on the other side of the kitchen was open and a pale light was streaming up the basement stairs.

She tiptoed over and poked her head inside. The rhythmic sound of sandpaper on wood traveled up to her and she could see Gibbs moving about downstairs, kicking up sawdust and sipping on bourbon.

She was sure he knew she was there, but didn't say anything as she slipped down the stairs to sit at the bottom, watching him work.

"You should be in bed, Abbs," he said after several minutes, he still didn't look up at her.

Abby didn't respond and when he glanced over at her, balled up with her arms wrapped around her legs, he got the distinct feeling she wasn't with him. Not really.

He continued work on his boat, feeling it was better to allow her to come back to earth on her own.

That was how _he _preffered to do it, in moments like those.

After a few minutes he saw her stand and move to walk around the boat, pausing when she came to the stern and studying the letters of the name written there.

"He called me 'Abbs' too."

Gibbs paused in sanding to look at her. She was tracing the letters with her finger.

"My grandfather. He called me Abbs. He called Bobby 'Old Man'," the corner of her mouth kicked up and she fought not to blink because she knew her tears would escape if she did. Gibbs pretended not to notice as her voice disintegrated into a whisper.

"Pop pop loved nicknames."

Silently Gibbs turned and put his sanding block to the bench.

"He called my grandma 'toots'," Abby sniffed, slow, fat tears rolling down her nose. She ignored them, continually tracing and retracing the 'K' of the boat's name.

Gibbs walked over to be right beside her, close enough to see that she was shaking but leaving enough space for her to pull away.

"He said nicknames were more important than given names," she forced herself to take a breath and pulled her hands inside her sleeves, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, eyes still locked on the letters of the boat, "because nicknames are given after you know someone...from the inside out," another deep breath and she was able to even out her voice a bit more, "who is Kelly?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, he wasn't expecting the change in subject.

"My daughter."

This caught her attention and Abby looked at him, her eyes momentarily clear, "daughter?"

Gibbs nodded, turning to look at the boat, laying a big, calloused hand against the smooth wood, "she died eight years ago. She and her mother."

Abby gasped, her eyes immediately filling with tears, "I'm sorry."

When Gibbs looked back at her she was studying her bare feet, curling her toes into the concrete and sniffing hard.

"I called her 'Scout'."

Abby gasped out a sob and nodded, biting her lip. "I bet you were a good father, Gibbs," she whispered, you remind me of my," she choked on a sob and lifted her eyes, "my father sometimes."

Gibbs would have smiled, but despite the confession and the tears, he knew this wasn't the source of the turmoil he'd seen earlier. The anxiety and fear that he was seeing bubbling toward the surface now. He waited. He had learned that, with Abby, if he waited long enough, she would tell him what he wanted to know.

"I don't think I can do this." She blurted out immediately, as if relieved he'd seen through her charade.

"Yes you can."

"No. You don't understand. I gave up," she gasped a short breath, "I gave up on my family. I ran away so much they sent me to live with Pop Pop. I'm not a good person, Gibbs, I can't be what Bobby needs now. I can't-"

Gibbs grabbed her by the shoulders, "you _are _what he needs, Abby. You're his sister. His family," he paused, and she hardly dared to breathe, "_that's_ what's important."

Abby clenched her teeth hard and clutched the sleeves of his shirt.

"Gibbs," she squeaked, and he didn't hesitate to pull her against him.

He felt her sobbing urgently against his chest and he stroked her hair, holding her steady and strong. A few moments later found him leaning against the side of the boat, Abby still folded into his chest, though the tears were silent and her breathing even. Gibbs rubbed her back and she stared at the shapes his footprints had made in the sawdust on the floor.

"How did Bobby end up at the Morgan's?" he asked after a while. Abby blinked, returning to the present and looked at him, pulling away to wipe her eyes.

"Bobby likes birds. He likes to watch 'em." She explained, running a finger along the smooth edges of the finely crafted wood, "he used to say he wished he could hear them but it made Gloria angry so he doesn't anymore. He climbed out of the window onto Grandpa's roof to watch the birds in the pine tree in the back yard. He smelled the smoke inside and climbed down the tree to run to a safe distance."

Gibbs' watched her as she pulled away and moved to the stern of the boat, staring at the letters of Kelly's name again.

"Mom and dad used to pound it into our heads, if we ever smelled smoke we were to run. Run away until we were safe. Never to stop and look for them because they wouldn't hear us calling them. Bobby either," a bit of self loathing seeped into her voice, "how many times did I get up at night to change the battery in the smoke detector and the one time it mattered I wasn't there?" she continued before Gibbs could protest. "He says he got lost among the fire-fighters afterward and the Morgan's took him in. They thought he was lost."

Gibbs kept staring at her and after a moment she met his gaze.

"Thanks Gibbs," she said quietly, "for everything," she started toward the stairs and then stopped, never looking up she added quietly, "Kelly was a lucky kid."

Gibbs tilted his head slightly to the side and watched her leave.

The next day found Abby packing up her clothes and what few things her brother had as they waited for their ride. Bobby was sitting out on the front porch watching the birds search for breakfast in the grass. Gibbs spied him as he walked through the kitchen with a coffee in each hand. The young boy had his chin on his knees, picking at the cracked wood of the steps with one hand.

"How is he?" He asked, holding the mug of coffee out to Abby.

One long pigtail flipped out of her face as she whirled around to look at him, dropping the duffel he'd given her on the floor.

She shrugged, "seems okay, I guess. Not sure how much he understands, though."

Gibbs just nodded, watching her carefully over the rim of his cup.

"I liked the red stuff better," she commented, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "the stuff you brought to the lab the other day."

Gibbs' brow furrowed in thought, "Caf-pow!?"

"Yeah, that was it."

Gibbs just shook his head, walking toward the window so he could see Bobby outside, "that stuffs not good for you Abbs."

Abby shrugged and came up beside him, "none of the fun stuff is."

They grew quiet a moment, watching Bobby as his sharp, blue eyes tracked a hawk flying overhead, it's shadow laying down circles on the grass.

"What will you do now?" Gibbs asked quietly, his eyes dropping briefly to the packed duffel on the floor beside the couch.

"We're going to stay with my Aunt Viv." Abby volunteered.

Gibbs had been wondering why she was packing their bags.

"It was Bobby's idea. I haven't seen her in years but I guess he remembered her. He handed me my phone early this morning. She was on the other end."

She sipped her coffee, her eyes glazed over in thought and memory. "She's my dad's sister, she lives in Baton Rouge. I'll go back with Bobby. Make sure he's settled and then…I'm not sure." She looked over at him, her eyes wide, as if searching for approval.

Gibbs nodded and then, "You'll have a standing offer at NCIS once you get your degree."

Abby's head whipped over to him, the way the words slipped so casually off his tongue made her breath catch.

"Really?" She asked, almost afraid to believe.

Gibbs finally looked at her and nodded, "Harris has nothing but good things to say about you and _you_ are the one who found Zoe's car on the tapes. You're good at this."

Abby just stared at him, silently searching his soul for so long he was fighting not to fidget.

"Gibbs," she said, her voice breaking, and put down her empty mug in order to throw her arms around his neck.

He barely held his ground under her attack and hesitantly returned her hug, he thought he could feel her smiling into his shirt.

Bobby burst inside, clapping and pointing and Abby pulled away to look outside, "our ride is here."

Gibbs put down his own mug to pick up the bag and followed the children outside.

"I could've taken you to the airport, Abbs." He said giving the taxi a suspicious look.

"No, Gibbs," she shook her head vehemently as he placed the duffel in the trunk, "bustling, impersonal airports are no place to say 'goodbye'." She stepped forward, hugging him again, this time he didn't hesitate to return it, "even if 'goodbye' is only 'see you later'."

She pulled back and was smiling.

"I will be seeing you again, Gibbs. I plan to take you up on that offer."

Bobby watched shyly from inside the cab, but happily signed 'see you soon' when Gibbs waved.

After she had gotten in and the cab pulled away, Abby rolled down the window to stick her head and hand out.

_See you soon. I promise. _

Gibbs waved. He thought she would probably keep that promise. And as he turned to go back inside, something in his gut told him he was right.

_END - sorry if it was too sappy at the end, lol, i tried not to, but it's hard! I hope everyone enjoyed it, thanks again for reading (and reviewing, lol)!!  
_


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